


In The End, The Prince Dies

by Genesister (papirini)



Series: Bangs and Thangs [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Body Horror, Lactation, M/M, Monsters, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Post-Season/Series 6, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papirini/pseuds/Genesister
Summary: Once upon a time, a creature was born under the watch of the beast they call the Goddess. He became the biggest, strongest, and fastest of all, earning the title of Prince. He lived for the Goddess, and he couldn’t think of a better life to have.There were things the Prince did want, though. Things his Mother denied him. Most important of all, he wished for reprieve from the dream that foretold his death. But fate cannot be denied.The Prince could only tremble as the Goddess sent him on a quest he couldn’t refuse – one to aid the creature destined to destroy him. A creature that stirred up emotions and thoughts he couldn’t explain.And in the end – no matter what he tries to do – the Prince will die.





	1. Swefniend

**Author's Note:**

> Author Notes:
> 
> Banner credits: All inner banner art, edited or unaltered, is by Roger Dean. You can find the bulk of his work on his [official website](https://gallery.rogerdean.com/). The borders are by Alphonse Mucha, from [Ilsée, Princesse de Tripoli](https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k1057574r/f17.planchecontact.r=Mucha,%20Alphonse).
> 
> Chapter translations come from the [Old English Translator](https://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/index.htm).
> 
> A million and one thanks to mondaijo.

It was another sunrise for the forest. The day was as it always was, slow and steady, the sky bright and multi-colored, just like the Sun itself. Some days, the sky above at high noon was orange; some days, it was green; other times it was red and every other conceivable color as it reflected sunlight. Either way, the colors were all normal for the forest. Even when there were clouds and it rained, the world above the territory of the Goddess was bright and beautiful with purple and blue clouds speckled with yellow. It was always this way, for in the land of the Sena, the creatures within, for the most part, knew nothing but paradise.

There were moments of lapsing discontent. A threat from beyond the forest, perhaps, a monster that threatened the borders of heaven. Usually it came from the south. Most of the animals would never know the worry of such a thing – or if they did, it was at the end of their lives, at the teeth of their betters. Otherwise, the creatures of the Sena’s keeping were ignorant and unworldly, from top to bottom.

Their state of bliss was the natural result of their ruler's efforts. The Goddess always took care of her own, after all. Even if she did not always directly intervene in matters – and she certainly could, quite easily - she had her ways to end turmoil before it truly started. Nothing truly suffered in her domain, not for long.

That day, that moment, had been no different. Bright flying _tinami_ wings glowed gently in the branches of the great blue trees as the noon came and went, the bulbous ends which swayed in the cool breeze. Beautiful colors of purple and pink and yellow adorned their beaks as they tweeted to one another, their black eyes and white pupils overlooking the ground below. They stared, perhaps for moments, perhaps for hours. It didn’t matter. It was simply what they did, looking for food and checking for danger to their flocks.

And then, out of nowhere, the _tinami_ fled at the sickening crunching sound that echoed through the air and shook branches large and small. Scarlet, indigo and neon orange wings flapped furiously as they retreated from the massive form as it slowly entered the clearing, a just-as-massive hind firmly clutched in its teeth.

The beast which emerged could smell the fear in the air, and it was so very tempting to drop his prey and just chase what would inevitably be his normal dinner anyways. However, he kept to the hind and strode forth, ignoring the scent of feathers and the screeching of the flyers as they fled from his presence. After all, nothing was so exhilarating as knowing he had downed such a creature like the hind, all by himself, with minimal injury.

Truly it was a beast among beasts he took down; the hind he carried in his mouth was giant, three heads higher than he, and with sharpened teeth to match and long legs that dragged through the dirt behind him. It was a poor beast, struck by a curse from the South, and thus it was changed upon contact. It was discolored to grey, twisted and grown large, and absolutely maddened in comparison to its more skittish, more timid kin, and it had grown strange boils and sharpened skin folds. It had keened strangely in low tones, and its mouth drooled green-and-pink bile.

It was a pitiful, sick thing, despite its immense new size, and kept running into things without reason in its blank white eyes. It had even broken its leg falling through a gorge in the Southern Pass. Its frothing insanity and injury, however, did not forgive the threat it posed. Many lesser animals had fallen to it in the struggle, and even one of the great _fllreni_ , those ancient beasts with skin as hard as stone that lived beyond the forest, had been taken down by its mindless, world-spanning rampage.

It had survived many things in its sad life, but in the end, it did not survive against _him_.

Carrying his kill to a rocky hill overlooking the valley of the green and blue forest below, he dropped the creature onto the very edge as a show of his prowess. Then, muzzle still dripping with blood and sinew, he threw his head back, tennaears flying and flapping in the wind, and howled, the sound echoing through the sky and shaking the ground.

This was what he did. This was who he was. He was the Prince, the most treasured child of the Sena, the Goddess of the forest. He was a beautiful specimen of his kind, and this was _his_ land to protect in his Mother’s name. This was his destiny. He was wild and free, and there would be nothing to bring him down.

He was. He simply _was_. And, as he proceeded down to the shrine of his Mother with his kill back in his mouth, he thought he was happy. Content, and where he was meant to be. Nothing more, nothing less. He questioned nothing.

 

 

The Sun of Many Colors was beginning to set, setting the sky aflame with purple, as he came to the Perch of the Altar. Once he had cleared the 1,000 stone steps leading up the hill, and was standing at last in the center of the great grove facing the seat of the Goddess herself, he dropped the twisted beast’s carcass from his massive teeth, and stepped back.

The great Sena, his Mother, her belly always full and fecund, her essence forever in her children, allowed the Prince to deposit the unmoving hind in front of her before she floated down from her perch. She slowly bent down, examining and sniffing the kill. Her nose was larger than even this monstrous hind, and her bright cerise eyes quietly looked up at him, sizing up the blood still caked on his black fur and the scent of the hunt from his mouth.

Her silence as she stared caused even him to stiffen in wary anticipation. Her approval was important to him, for without it, he could not be the leader he was. He could not be the Prince of his kind, and—

In the end, it didn’t matter; his momentary lapse of confidence was unfounded. She threw her head back and howled, hers a bone-rattling roaring tide which slammed into his ears. It was low and high at the same time, a mix of male and female and indistinctive throats. It was her signal for the others of their kind. His offering to her, his killing of this beast, was approved.

She was proud of him and his efforts. And he felt his chest burst with pride as she feasted on his offering, her tongue lapping up the remains and its blood in one clean wipe. And then, her tongue lolled onto him, an almost playful maneuver to show her happiness and pride in his action, as well as to clean him of the hunt. Then, as with his other great deeds, she allowed him to suckle from her, so that her essence could continue to flow within him and strengthen him for the future.

For the Prince, this was all he could ever hope for. All he could ever _live_ for, and his chest swelled with pride as he strode forward. Surely, there was nothing else in his life that could make him more content.

Nothing, save one thing: to be here, at this point in his life, _forever_.

 

* * *

 

Once, they said, the Sena had all black fur. That was before the Glow, the terrible moment when the world before was blown away by the light. Yet the Sena survived, gaining her beautiful mottled fur of so many colors and her bright sky-like pink eyes. Those of her children who had black fur were said to be blessed, and were most likely to be the Prince of the Sena in due time. They were the strongest and, of course, the most beautiful of her progeny.

Naturally, the Prince wasn’t one to generally brag (…well, maybe a _small_ bit, but being the leader made it a requirement among the pack), but he was a testament to that wisdom. His fur, after all, was almost entirely black. Black was a lucky color, the pack said when he was first presented to them. It was the color of the North, of the Goddess’ domain. It was Mother’s birth color.

Not to mention, outside of mere fur color, he _was_ beautiful to behold. He was strong as well, no doubt, as well as big, muscular, and sleek. He held the essence of his Mother inside of him, as all her children did. Ever since he was suckled at the Goddess’ teat, and he first opened his eyes, it pumped through his veins as naturally as blood. It showed in his looks. His teeth were bright and white and sharp, his eyes were perfectly gold, and his tail long and striped. His tennaears, too, were striped black and white, flapping long and gracefully into the wind as they felt the air around him.

Even his imperfections – his scars, his white spots on his right front leg and forehead, his front right limping paw, a flaw that had at first caused the others in his pack to question his right to rule – were a testament to his prowess, as opposed to a sign of shame. He was a warrior who always fought and always won in the name of his Mother, no matter what obstacles laid ahead or within him. He thus never thought about the limping paw, not when it was barely noticeable that he limped, not when it didn’t impede his ability to fight. Not about where his scars came from, save when another asked. Then, it was always related to a story of triumph over the Goddess’ enemies, or against a beast like the monstrous hind he downed.

No one questioned him. He most of all certainly didn’t question his own scars, not even the ones he could never remember gaining.

 

* * *

 

At day, he ruled alongside his Mother, and guarded the forest in her name. At night, he dreamed, sometimes.

Sometimes he had a strange one.

The first time he had a strange dream, he remembered exhaustion, injury, the blood that was his, and a mind that assuredly wasn’t. Bright lights and _metal_ and screaming, and then, nothing but laying down, his breath heavy and gurgling. It was all vague, his own cries sounding utterly foreign to him, yet at the same time, was too vivid not to be his own. He remembered claws in front of him, sharp and dark and gleaming, coming towards his face before he would wake up.

A look into his own death? Perhaps. It was said that those anointed as Princes of the Goddess of before could see aspects of the future when in a true state of stillness. And the Sena, above all others, could see the future clearly. But the Sena would hear nothing of it when she heard of the dream. Crazy fancies, she would say, as she sat above him, her glowing pink eyes looking down at him from her perch, tails swaying back and forth.

Sometimes, she said, a dream is just being that, a dream. There was no metal in this land. Nothing here to disturb the paradise that she laid aside for her children. His death was not to come that way. No death would come to _her_ children, those who had nursed at her and inherited her strength and beauty, without her knowledge and foresight. And the Prince, the strongest of her children, was no exception.

To her knowledge? He was hardly ready to die just yet. And the dream he had of metal, it was clearly not _that_ One Dream. _That_ One Dream, that was one he knew all too well, as it was one all of her children would have as they lived, and would easily recognize when they received it. All other visions of the night that the Prince had…they were just strange dreams, otherwise. That was all.

He was mollified by these reassurances from his Mother. What she said made sense. What happened and what would happen did not evade the notice of the Sena. Things didn’t happen unless they were destined to happen. The Goddess would not let such things happen. Let them be mere products of sleep, she said, and nothing more.

He believed her, as always, letting himself burrow into her side as the Sun of Many Colors once more rose up again on the forest, as it always did. He had no reason not to believe her then.

 

* * *

 

So it was that he simply went on his way, paying little heed to the tricks his mind played at night. Every time he would have the dream, or other strange dreams of metal that were not _that_ One Dream, he would remember her words, and as time went by, the strange dream faded to little more than a nuisance to be ignored.

Of course, all the other strange dreams still came – not _that_ One Dream – and he would pay them the same lack of heed. Strange paws, black skies, glowing colors, distant roars. Figures that walked tall but not like him, the feeling of furless skin on one’s back. Voices crying out to him, echoing into a tinny void as bright light took over into darkness. Strange wilderness in hues unlike the forest, and creatures in bigger creatures inside even bigger creatures.

All these things faded. They were just strange dreams. Little more. He would forget them as best as he could, and so he did.

Yet despite this it did not occur to him to ask why his Mother looked downcast when he boasted that he would always be her Prince, and would never leave her or die like the Princes before him. Or, after he had relayed his dream, how he could have possibly known about the concept of _metal_. Nothing occurred to him to think that anything was wrong with it at all.

At least, not yet.

 

* * *

 

 

It began on what had been a normal night, so he had thought. He had been sleeping once more. It was black and silent as he finished washing his muzzle in the nearest stream from his latest meal, and it was likewise when his eyes finally slipped closed.

_He’s here._

A strange-looking paw was descending on him, and yet he didn’t fight back. It looked like the one in his One Dream, but there seemed to be no malicious intent in the motion. He should fight back, but somehow, he didn’t.

_Patience…no…I’m coming for you…! I’m here!_

He felt nothing but calm as he himself reached out with his…his…

What  _was_ he holding out? It was not his  _paw_ , it was—

His eyes bolted open as he let out a yelp. Almost instantly he looked down at his front legs. His paws were still there, as usual, his right paw heavier than his left, as usual. He took a deep breath. Another dream. Another silly, pointless dream. One that woke him up from a sound sleep, no less. How irritating.

He looked up at the night sky, snout twitching mightily against the cold of night. That was when he saw it.

The glowing silhouette of a strange bird had appeared, just above the horizon.

It looked like nothing he could recall from the front of his mind, and yet seeing it made him feel a twinge of fear. He couldn’t explain it, save that the feeling congealed into a single thought, unbidden and sudden, that washed over him with utter certainty.

_It’s here for me._

He growled as he kept staring at the bird. He didn’t know why the bird was after him, simply that he  _knew_ , deep in his soul. But he wouldn’t allow it. He would kill the bird before it had the chance.

It, and anything else which would take him from here.

Despite his declaration, and despite the fact that the bird didn’t come closer, he wouldn’t sleep further that night.

 

* * *

 

The bird hung in the sky, even as the Prince approached the Perch. It shined dark in the rising multi-colored Sun, the dawn’s reflection gleaming onto the forest of the Sena. It hadn’t moved an inch in the night, and indeed continued to hold where it was. A worrisome realization, he thought. If it could hover for so many hours, who knew what kind of strength that bird had?

 _Mother._ His eyes looked up to the ancient, grand, beautiful beast above him as she slowly unfurled with the morning light _._  Her other children had gathered, clearly knowing and palpably fearful of the new creature. Around them, a tense cacophony of noises echoed from the trees.  _The bird above us. It is large and looks dangerous. It unsettles our pack and may threaten us. What do you wish me to do?_

The Sena’s eyes slowly opened, bright pink orbs boring into him. There was an intensity within them that the Prince was used to; Mother was nothing if not a captivating presence, powerful and calm. Her will easily calmed the pack as she looked around; the other animals in the forest calmed until the noises stilled to little but the wind blowing through branches.

It was good to see Mother able to so easily keep the peace; it was a measure of her wonderful power, showing she was the Goddess of the forest for this reason.

 **_It is not a bird._** Her gentle voice finally answered, echoing into his soul.  ** _It is a ship._ **

A…ship.

Something deep in the Prince’s mind automatically accepted this as fact, despite himself. Never mind what a ship  _was_ , or that he couldn’t recall ever being taught such a thing; suddenly he simply  _knew_. It was a vessel, non-living, which could carry things from one place to another.

How had he known that? It was strange to understand what she was talking about though he’d never heard of such a thing. After all, not even the Sena, for all her greatness and potency, could simply conjure concepts out of nowhere into another being’s mind. Which meant, somehow, he understood what it was all on his own, without any bidding or explanation. He didn’t know how, or why, but he decided it was not worth the time to worry about it.

What mattered was the new intruder on their sacred territory and what things the vessel might have brought to the forest.

 _Well, I shall stop it,_ he announced without any further hesitation, knowing that any other child of Sena would be remiss to try and confront the bird…ship. Not  _him_ , though. Not the Prince. Not when it was his duty to protect.  _Whatever comes out of it, it shall not get here._

To his surprise, instead of agreeing with his proclamation of victory – as she normally did – Mother simply looked down at him, expression unreadable, before closing her eyes.

**_We shall see, my Prince. Go forth. And look upon what has come with your own eyes._ **

And so he did venture forth, paws padding down the stairs. He thought no further about the strange concepts that had woken up in his mind, or the disquiet that the Goddess’ reaction provoked within him. Nothing was more important than the safety of the forest, and to assert his authority over the bird…ship if it wasn’t hostile. To please his Mother, most of all, consumed even those important thoughts.

However, no sooner had he gone down the last set of steps, and left the borders of the Perch, then the bird…ship suddenly moved, for the first time since it appeared. It was flying  _up_ , higher even than a mountain, and disappeared into the skies, until it was little more than a speck. Then, that speck disappeared entirely, as if it had never existed to begin with.

That had been…so  _strange_. What had that been? Where did it go? Was its presence simply a fluke? Perhaps, he thought with a bit of smugness, perhaps it knew the truth about who this forest really belonged to. That he was coming to face the bird…ship. Good. It was better that way. He’d never let anything happen to his territory. He let out a growl.

No intruders while he was around.


	2. Ferhþgeníðla

 

The Prince had responsibilities that the others in their pack didn’t have. Most important in the short-term was the ability to hunt and kill, and he of course had this power in spades. He proved it, when he became the Prince, and fought with his kin to retain that right from time to time. And those who he called kin were few, depending on the day. The Mother had many children, countless even over her long life, and she would give birth still from time to time. However, the weak and small never lasted. Only the strongest survived and thrived, and ultimately lived.

The strongest, like him.

His nose twitched as he came upon the great river which, further south, eventually helped to separate the territory of the Sena and her progeny, and that of the great monsters which slowly moved across the landscape, towering above everything around it. In the forest, it was also a source of drink for hunter and hunted alike. Hinds and matutines, the pack’s primary sources of food, came here often, as did _tinami_. He could smell those animals all around him as he bent to drink, tongue lapping up the crisp, cool water. He’d hunt once his thirst was quenched, as he was wont to do.

The sky was its brightest green, and the clouds were pendulous and blood red as he looked up. A normal day, at that moment.

Then he picked up the new scent, and he froze. Two thoughts filled his mind.

One was _Mother_.

The second was _I know this scent_.

He was moving, now, to the south, following the scent on the river at it got ever stronger. It smelled like sand and fir and something else utterly alien to him. Despite it he knew the words, and what the concepts meant ( _Sand is a type of fine particle. Fir is a tree_ ). _He knew the smell._

He acted quickly. He hunched down, slowly retreating backwards towards the forest’s trees again. This familiar smell was permeating, tempting, and he knew he needed to get closer. _Why_? He didn’t know. But he had to do it. Somehow, he needed to.

 _Prey._ His mind helpfully supplied. _Prey to kill. Prey to eat. Prey to give to Mother._

It was followed by another realization: this was not the smell of an animal native to the forest, whatever it belonged to. But where could it have—

_(The ship. It’s here for me)_

He shook his head and let out a grumble, forcing the revelation down. It didn’t matter. Well, it did, but it was only a minor thing. If it wanted the Prince, then it meant a more valuable kill for stories to be passed down through the ages. A more exotic trophy for Mother to covet as well, and after that, nothing more.

He slowly followed the smell as it strengthened in his nostrils, prowling down the banks of the river. It started to move downstream, towards the Perch. That wouldn’t do. Whatever it was, the prey would never arrive there alive.

After an eternity of stalking, he found it. It was kneeling down by the water, on its two hind legs. Its front legs were moving around, bringing water into its mouth, before bringing up a strange, tube-like organ from its side. It seemed to detach from the side at the will of the creature, for the water ended up in the now-bloated organ, going back down into the prey’s side as easily as it had been brought out.

Then the Prince took in the color of his prey, and he started. It was black, like his fur, the rarest of colors in the forest.

Black, like—

A second of panic filled the air as he breathed through his nostrils.

The Black Beast.

_Death._

 

* * *

 

He’d dreamed of the Black Beast before. A massive thing on four legs, like him, but much bigger, akin to Mother herself. It was a vague form, foggy like the morning, but there was no denying its presence in front of him. When he faced it, he could feel _fear_. He couldn’t fight, most of the time – when he did, he slashed at nothing. He otherwise felt too overwhelmed. He could otherwise do nothing, only turn and flee as its glowing eyes towered over him, power washing over him in waves.

Golden eyes, much like his own.

The first time he had that dream, he brought it up to his Mother. It had to be just another strange dream. He had those often, after all – those dreams of stars and skies unfamiliar to him, of powers great and small that he could barely comprehend. As far back as he could remember, like with the dream of the strange claw grabbing for him that very morning, he’d had the strange dreams. As always, he would ignore them as ridiculous.

But the Black Beast was different. It was that One Dream that felt more real than anything else he’d experienced thus far – it quickened his heart and pounded into his head, until he could only see the glowing eyes when he closed his own. It was a dream of his future, he knew it. Because of that, he had to know what it meant. And that was the first time Mother couldn’t look him in the face as she responded.

**_The Black Beast seeks you out. It shall not rest until it has you in its grasp. A black creature shall be your end, my Prince._ **

Those words struck him deep in his very soul, and almost immediately, he understood the meaning of her cryptic statement. He couldn’t believe it. Mother was _really_ going to let that happen? Was it possible? Had Mother, when looking at his dream, seen his _death dream_ , the most terrifying and true of all slumbering visions one could have?

The Sena had seen the future, and at last, she had seen his end. His end…if he was gone in that way, it would plunge the pack into chaos. It could destroy everything for him, and he would be unable to arrange proper succession battles and rites, and thus it could be ages before a new Prince could claim dominance. Worse, there would be no future for his essence. Nothing – and no one – to show he had ever existed.

And he, the strongest creature of all of Mother’s creations, would be… _would be_ …

He couldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t! He was the Prince and he _wouldn’t let it happen_!

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t help the growl forming in his throat as he lowered himself, waiting for his chance to attack. The Black Beast was strong in his dreams, and despite his hopes, it wouldn’t be any different in real life. He watched as, to his surprise, the monster slowly got up onto its hind legs with no problem, its front legs coming up to its neck, its black face looking around with large purple eyes, two purple claw scars beneath them, and no mouth.

It started to turn towards where the Prince was hunched. That’s when he struck.

Leaping into the air, the Black Beast barely had a chance to react before his giant limping paw had slammed it to the ground, with surprising ease. Indeed, he could finally look at the Black Beast in full, with his own two eyes.

The Black Beast…this was the Black Beast? It was so… _tiny_. Small. Thin. _Weak_. Its three bright, glowing purple eyes stared at him, shocked at the sight of the Prince. It hadn’t even stood a chance against him. What had he been terrified for? One single swipe would easily end it. He couldn’t help but crow in triumph with a huffing growl, bringing his other paw up to finish the job.

Then the creature’s face changed, and he suddenly hesitated.

It was pale. Its face had been black, and now, it was pale, almost white, save for a long scar that went from near the nose to the neck. Two, not three, dark eyes, not purple yet purple somehow too, stared at him with a wide, frightened stare, its mouth was open wide as it took in rapid breaths, and he could hear its heartbeat echo furiously into his ears. These were not reactions of a predator, but _prey_.

There was something wrong about that. Something wrong about that face.

Something inexplicably familiar.

_This is…!_

 

 

The inexplicable sense of seeing this before disappeared as quickly as it came, and the Prince forced himself to focus. In his shock, his paw had loosened the pressure on the Black Beast, and it was already sliding back on its feet and running away from him.

_No!_

He lunged after, but he missed. The Black Beast was fast, and the next thing he knew, it was gone, blinking out of his sight as he recovered from the miss. The smell lingered, though alongside the sounds of receding steps, and the Prince angrily pursued with a roar that shook the forest around them. The Black Beast was somehow getting away. He couldn’t let the creature get away. He couldn’t let this creature eventually end his life!

Yet no matter what he tried, he couldn’t see the creature. He could smell the scent go up, up, _up_ , into the trees. He couldn’t climb, but he didn’t need to – he was stronger than many of the ancient trees. So instead he simply smashed through the wood until they were splinters, trying to maneuver around the remnant trunks to keep up with his target. He wouldn’t let up. He wouldn’t _let_ himself let up.

He would not let the Black Beast escape again.

Eventually he could hear the Black Beast pant, and the Prince’s blood soared with excitement. It was tiring. It really was weak. They’d barely gone long at all, yet this purported ender of his life was already tiring. Perhaps now it would fall from the tree, and he would find it by the sound of it falling to the ground. Then, he would take it, crush its neck with his mouth and then offer it to—

_No._

He stopped. Where was this hesitation coming from? He’d never hesitated to fight against an _enemy,_ and there was no doubt that the Black Beast _was_ an enemy. The Black Beast was going to end him if he didn’t stop pursuing!

The scent began to dim again. He had to keep going—

**_No._ **

This time, it was not his thought permeating through his mind. It was Mother’s.

**_Prince. Come. He seeks me and I shall receive him. You shall come to the Perch to witness._ **

_But Mother—_

A low psychic rumble came from her, and the Prince knew then he wouldn’t dare refuse. Couldn’t. She would face the Black Beast, and he would have to be at her side.

The Black Beast destined to kill him would face the Goddess herself.

Surely Mother would stop him before it was too late.

_Right?_

 

* * *

 

Much to his irritation, the two-faced Black Beast reached the Perch before the Prince did, becoming visible just as he entered the area. Upon seeing it, the Prince growled, causing every member of the pack – all of them on each side of the Perch, all of them different ages and colors, all around Mother in a great circle - to open up their bright eyes, their orbs all focused first on the Prince, then on the Black Beast.

It was on its two feet again. It was an unnatural stance for any creature that would ever grace the paradise Mother created. It was also even smaller than he’d first realized; there were known insects in the forest that were larger than it. Yet there it was, the Black Beast from his death dream, slowly approaching his Mother with the nervousness of a newborn whelp.

He never took his eyes off the abomination. It looked nothing like the Black Beast of his dreams – so tiny and weak as it looked - but that must have meant nothing. The Prince knew what this was, that the Black Beast was the Black Beast, and that was _that_.

He did not trust it. He _would_ not trust it.

**_You have come. I have been expecting you._ **

The Black Beast started at the Mother’s voice echoing through its mind, as it echoed through everyone else’s mind. What was more, the Black Beast’s head perked up during the call, its pale face appearing with its eyes wide. It was responding to the greeting. It could hear it. To be able to hear Mother’s psychic call so clearly was a mark of pride for the pack, the Prince included, and upon seeing the reaction, the Prince could not help but shudder at the sight of the great power being wasted on such a _thing_ as the Black Beast.

After a moment, the creature spoke – by opening its mouth.

“Um…hi.”

It was a hideous sound, like a mewling, short-tennaeared pup, and yet that was not what terrified the Prince. Sounds like that coming from any monster were hardly terrifying or even worth listening to, and were generally more akin to the pleading and desperate final cries of a dying animal than an attempt at true communication. No, none of that was the matter - rather, it was the sudden realization that he knew what the Black Beast was saying.

He could _understand_ it.

“I’m…” The Black Beast dared to turn its head, to look over at the Prince with a steady stare despite the nervousness. The Prince’s growl deepened, yet it kept its gaze up. “I’m here because—”

**_I know why you are here._ **

The Black Beast’s head instantly snapped back up to Mother. She was perched in her spot, her tails swaying around the column beneath it. She seemed tense. Of course she would be tense with what was happening. It was the _Black Beast_ that was standing in front of her.

 ** _I have long foreseen your arrival to my lands._** Her pink eyes glowed brighter as she looked down at the Black Beast. **_You seek to learn the fate of your comrade._** **_You believe I hold the answer to your question._**

“…Yeah.” The creature had the audacity to look surprised at the reveal of the Sena’s future cognition. “I’m here to find him, and…I mean, _do_ you know the answer? Can you tell me?”

**_I know many things._ **

Simple, yet cryptic. It was how Mother would respond to most troubling questions presented to her.  It was up to the one who asked for her advice to interpret what she meant, and to find the answers they sought. The Black Beast, it seemed, was no different.

 **_However, what you ask of me is something I simply cannot give to you, for it is not within my power to simply bring your comrade back to you._ ** The Black Beast’s form actually seemed to deflate a little, before the Sena continued. **_For that, you must make the means yourself, with a marrow of the_ ** **mllureni**.

That brought the Prince’s head away from the Black Beast, and to Mother at the name. She was asking that monster to do… _that_!?

“The…what?” Was it stupid? Did it not know what it was being asked to do!? Its face seemed to redden as if to confirm its utter ignorance. “Well, um, I mean, I’ve never heard of a mill…muh…”

Its face contorted into a strange expression. Annoyance?

“Ok, whatever.” It brought its front limbs up. “What is it and where can I find one?”

At this, the Prince couldn’t help but snort at the stupidity, and soon the rest of the pack followed suit. He still couldn’t believe that this, _this_ was the Black Beast that was to destroy him. This monster was so far not shaping up to be anything that _could_ kill him. Especially if he didn’t know what a _mllurenis_ was, much less pronounce it. _Everyone_ knew what it was!

 **_You shall see for yourself, when you find it. For you shall have a guide._ ** The Sena’s head slowly turned. **_The greatest of my children shall take you there himself._ **

That killed the merry mood instantly, and every pack member went silent at the pronouncement. The Prince felt his own heart drop to his haunches as he realized everyone was looking at him. Every last one, with a new, quiet moroseness never present before in the pack.

He knew who among the pack his Mother meant, when she spoke those words. _Him._ The Prince. He’d only fought everyone else for his place, after all. He was the one who’d protected the Sena’s holy grounds and territory for this whole time. He was the one who fed the pack, watched over the pack, taught them to defend themselves if he was away from the Perch, and helped them grow.

Now, he was being sent to do something no pack member had ever done before. It would have been a quest he would have taken with pride, for the glory of his Mother, were it not for one thing.

He was being sent with the _Black Beast_ to do her bidding.

He was, in truth, being sent to _die_.

 **_Prince._ ** Now, Mother’s attention was on him, and his throat felt dry and cold. **_You shall bring our guest to a_ ** **mllurenis** **_through the Southern Pass. You, my Prince, will obtain its marrow, and then you shall drink it within the Waters of the Skies. And that is how they shall receive their answers, for you will be the one to give them this creature._ **

There was murmuring among the pack at this. To reach a _mllurenis_ was considered impossible. To do what Mother asked on top of this, inconceivable. In any other circumstance, the Prince would do it in a heartbeat, his head held high.

Here and now, however, Mother was practically sealing his fate in front of everyone. Even if he survived such a trial, he would, somehow, not return to them alive.

“Right.” The Black Beast wrung its hands together. “Get its marrow, get some water, and…ok then.” It dared to look back over at the Prince, a touch of reticence still gracing its expression. “Whenever you’re ready to go.”

 **_Not yet._ ** The Sena’s eyes flashed, briefly. **_I would have a moment with my children. With my greatest. Alone._ **

Alone. The pack instantly heard, and obeyed; they all quietly slunk out, each one of them looking over at the Prince as they left the grove, with the Black Beast soon among them. All of them looked down towards the ground when the Prince would manage to catch their eye.

Every last one of them looked at him as one would mourn a departed. Every last one saw him as gone already. No doubt they were already contemplating supplanting his place, but he refused to—

**_Prince._ **

He was brought back to the present by Mother’s voice.

 **_You will go with the creature you now fear. You will help with their quest, and most of all you will_ ** **not** **_harm them._ **

The Sena’s eyes stared into him, and her words were clearly not a request.

_Mother…_

**_I know you are frightened. I know too well why it is so._ ** She floated off of the altar, bringing her massive nose to his forehead as best as she could without crushing him. **_Ah, you have been so strong for me, child. You more than earned your title as Prince of your pack long ago, and have done all I could ever want from you. All I ask of you now is to bear this one last burden for me, and then, all shall be well. I promise._ **

_Mother!_ He couldn’t contain himself anymore. _How could you expect me to go alone with_ that _, knowing what you know? Is this not the Black Beast you spoke to me of? It makes no sense!_

Silence. The Prince continued; her quiet toward his questions scared him.

 _Why do you ask me to walk into my own death for the likes of that menace, that which you know is the one thing I fear beyond anything else? Why, knowing, above everything else, that my…my ending is to be at its hands?_ He could feel his own iron will waver as he looked up into her eyes, even underneath her snout _. Is…have I done something to displease you? Are you sending me out because I have angered you? I would do anything for you and ask for nothing in return save your love, but_ please _, Mother, at least ease my mind! Tell me truly what I did so that I will know the sin I am to die for!_

**_What is a hand, my Prince?_ **

_What? Mother, why do you…?_

The Prince blinked, then frowned at his Mother’s question. A hand. Hand? _Hand_.

It took him a moment to realize he had never recalled hearing the word before, much less said it himself. Still, the word had seemingly sprung forth into his mind from nothing, and as he pondered his Mother’s question, so too, suddenly, did its _meaning_.

An ending piece of a limb, specifically for a type of limb found only in certain species. It could move, the digits could bend, and with enough dexterity, could be used to accomplish multiple tasks. Tasks like—

He froze before the void of his mind could swallow him whole with further such inexplicable concepts and explanations. Concepts that he instantly knew despite himself.

 _Mother?_ He suddenly felt smaller. Weaker. He hated feeling small and weak, and being unable to protect his pack, much less himself, from what he knew to now be inevitable. Small, and weak, against the sudden facts springing up in his mind without prompt or origin _. Is something wrong with me?_

More silence, save for the hot breath from the Goddess’ nostrils washing over him. In the distance, a _tinami_ let out a cry, before flapping its wings and flying away.

 ** _…No._** After an eternal silence, Mother closed her eyes. **_Of course not._** **_There is nothing wrong with you at all._**

_But then why-?_

Her nose lifted from his head, a single warm huff surrounding him for only a moment.

**_You will find the answer to your question at the end as well, my Prince. That is why you must go. That is why you must do what I ask now. I do not do this to hurt you; I do this because it must be done._ **

The Prince’s shoulders sagged at her words. He couldn’t argue, in the end, and he knew it; this was Mother’s will. And ultimately, he would abide by her will. Ever since he could remember, even before he became the Prince, it was what he did, without question. Thus, he would do her bidding again this last time.

Even to his end, he obeyed.

 **_Go forth, Prince. Take the creature you fear to the Southern Pass, and aid them in their quest._ ** Mother stepped back quietly, her tails curling around her. **_Learn for yourself what you seek. Be strong…and farewell._ **

The Prince faltered for a moment, looking at her for a long moment, before finally turning to leave. Every so often, though, he turned to look at Mother, every few steps, until at last he was traversing down the steps and out of her sight. He did his best to memorize his brilliant Mother’s form, her face, her eyes. He had to.

He knew deep down that he would never see her again with his own eyes.


	3. Onræsas

The Black Beast was waiting for him as he got to the bottom of the stairs. Its pale face was still visible, eyes no doubt staring at the Prince’s amazing physique, his bright eyes, his sharp white teeth. Sharp teeth that were immediately bared at the Black Beast as it started to open its mouth; it quickly turned away from him, its…hand (what is hand? How did he _know_ what hand is?) to its mouth, and instead began to quickly start walking. Pacing, even.

“…out. Ok. Right…just…just gotta do this.” The Prince heard some of its mumbles with his superior hearing as the Black Beast’s black face reappeared, causing his voice to change, become more echoing. It sounded nervous – scared, even. It scratched where the scar on its pale face was, as it went back and forth. “I can do this. It’s for him. Do it for _him_ …!”

 _I can understand him._ That thought permeated once more. _But why? How?_

**_You will find the answer to your question…_ **

_Worse, can_ he _understand_ me _?_ The Prince growled. The idea of this monster knowing the tongue of the Sena, on top of everything else, rankled him. He had to know. _You! Black Beast! Detestable thing, can you understand me?_

The Black Beast looked at him, clearly staring at him as the moments went by. There was no understanding in his eyes of the Prince’s psychic orders; there was nothing but concern and no small amount of worry.

 _Answer me!_ His snarl became a barking roar. _Now!_

The Beast simply flinched at the noise, hand ( _and? what is a hand? What is a hand? What i_ ) going down to its side. Still no understanding, only a little more worry.

“Please, I just want to—” it pled to the prince, holding its other hand up in an open gesture. The Prince growled at the hand as it attempted to approach, causing it to stop in its tracks from coming closer. “Look, I - I don’t know if you’re anything like that large creature that talked to me back there, but if you are, you have to understand me, don’t you? Just…if you can, I can tell you that I’m _not_ here to hurt you. I _promise_.”

The Beast seemed sincere. It almost seemed believable. For a moment, for some baffling reason, the Prince  _wanted_ to believe he was being sincere.

That terrified him.

 _Liar. You cannot fool me, Beast, no matter what you do._ Shaking his head of his doubts, the Prince’s eyes narrowed. _I know why you are here. Yet I can see that you cannot understand me, as I can you. I will ensure to use this to my advantage._

With that, the Prince stomped past the Black Beast, eyes trained on it until he couldn’t turn his head to look anymore. Then, briefly, he stopped and lifted his hind leg, letting a nice, long stream of gold shower onto a rock. He could hear the Black Beast skitter backwards as the pungent smell began to waft through the air, and he couldn’t help but let out a chitter as heard it squeak in surprise; it was a sign of submission to him.

No doubt, the Black Beast wouldn’t forget that, and would have second thoughts about double-crossing him, should it decide to let destiny take its course after all.

After that show of dominance, the Black Beast simply trailed behind him while the Perch became smaller and smaller behind him. As the Prince stopped to look once more, their eyes met, ever so briefly. Then the Black Beast’s eyes went down, a sighing breath on his lips as his face became the black void once more.

His? _His_. Wait.

The Prince stopped, causing his charge, such as it was, to bump into his back with an _oof_.

When – and why – did the Prince suddenly assume the Black Beast was a _he_?

 

* * *

 

The Prince sulked on his sudden, strange revelation. (The Black Beast is a _male_ , not an _it_ ? How did that assumption come? And why couldn’t the Black Beast go back to _being_ just a mere it in his mind now?) as they came to the entrance to the Southern Pass. It was not far at all from the Perch of the Altar – the Sun of Many Colors was still in the sky when they reached it, and the trees of the forest still graced his vision, so distance from the Perch wasn’t the problem.

No. It was the symbolism of what it meant to go to the entrance. What the Southern Pass _meant_.

The Prince looked around at the bone-like, titrion-tinted rocks that jutted out of the ground, curling around orange and blue trunks. This was it. He couldn’t help but let out a mournful howl after taking in one last, deep sniff of the forest around him, of its grass and animals and flowers and trees. He allowed himself one last marking onto the ground beneath him, his urine soaking through the dirt and grass and trunks behind him as he walked. He could hear the Black Beast skitter to the side to again avoid the pungent stream coming out the back side of his body, and the Prince couldn’t help but haughtily huff.

As if he would want to mark _him_ with anything for claiming. He hardly wanted the Black Beast to touch him!

No – he was doing this as a final means of allowing his pack to remember him, to be able to have his scent for a time yet after he had left. Especially if he truly wasn’t meant to come back from beyond Mother’s terrain. For he was about to leave the Sena’s territory for other parts of the world beyond for the task.

It was only when he had emptied his insides, and his smell was stirring in the air around him, that the Prince finally proceeded forward. He didn’t want to. He had no choice.

The Southern Pass, with its deep rocks and fins and roots, was a place where many in his pack had once died in battle. That had, of course, been a long time ago, long before he was born, but it was said that Mother had fought great monsters here with her family, during a time of great upheaval, long after the Glow which scarred the world. The larger of the fallen enemies had merged almost seamlessly into the landscape, their tawny remains piled on top of one another until they became crags which dominated the South. The smaller bones could still be found, as dark purple piles of bones littered haphazardly on the floor.

It was after that battle that Mother demarcated where her lands would end. The Prince would enter the pass, with the lush paradise and plentiful bounty of the Sena’s forests behind him. He, and the Black Beast, would presumably exit through the pass, and enter into the barren and hopeless wastelands of the South. The South of the very world, all of it an endless, forsaken ground. It was the opposite of the forest, a place where nothing grew, even though water flowed easily through it and rain could always be seen somewhere in the distance. Only ancient beasts, literal monsters that staggered the imagination of the pack, could survive.

Mother could easily survive there as well, for she, too, was ancient. She could remember the world before the Glow. She was a survivor of that mythical past, and thus could speak with ease and nostalgia of how the world had been different, so long ago. Other creatures had existed, creatures with names and realms and histories long lost with their species. Tall, broad, kind beasts that could dance with the sun and stars, and beautiful creatures that sang with voices like carillons. Once they had ruled the world, and resided mainly in the wastelands of the South. They were not wastelands then, of course; they were a different kind of forest, one that was rich with hard silver trees that touched the sky, great flowers full of fat nectar, and bountiful streams of food so sweet even Mother’s paradise would be put to shame.

The Glow destroyed it all in a great flash of light, and in their place came other things. Other things the Prince knew he and the Black Beast would have to face.

“…bones?” The Prince found himself pulled back from the stories of his Mother by the Black Beast’s ugly voice. “…yeah. These are definitely bones.”

To the Prince’s shock, the Black Beast was handling the indipumice-laced rib bone of a long-dead beast of unknown provenance. It curled around the creature’s limb in a circle, from its hand up to its closest joint.

“Unknown, huh?” Its other hand was to its mumbling mouth again. “Right, then. I’ll keep this and—”

 _What are you doing!?_ The Prince brought down his limping paw to the ground with a loud thud and an angry growl. _Don’t touch those!_

“Woah, hey…!” The Black Beast instantly brought up his hands. “Hey. I’m not…I…what do you want? What’s going on?”

 _Those are not yours, monster._ _Those are the bones of monsters killed by Mother!_ His growling continued. _They are sacred to Mother! Put that down now!_

For a moment, the Black Beast didn’t seem to respond, didn’t move. Then, without warning, he dropped the bone to the ground, seeming not to need any further convincing.

“Ok, it’s…was that what was wrong?”

The Prince immediately stopped growling at the action, much to his surprise.

“I’m sorry.” The Black Beast brought his hands back down. “Whatever it is, I…I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t understand you, but if that was it…seriously. I’m really sorry. I won’t touch another one of those remains again. I promise.”

More than that, the Prince also, suddenly, found he couldn’t be angry at the Black Beast for his actions. The Black Beast that was going to kill him. But the Black Beast didn’t know any better.

But he _wanted_ to be angry at the Black Beast. Why couldn’t he be angry? He needed to hate the Black Beast, the Black Beast was going to—

_Be reasonable. He’s just a kid._

The thought came without warning, bobbing up into the forefront of his mind like a gentle breeze. It was a strangely calm and reasonable thought to come to him, which was more his Mother’s domain than his own. Not that he couldn’t be reasonable – he was the most reasonable Prince! _Very_ reasonable!! - but where had that come from?

Then the Prince shook his head, and the thought was forgotten, smashed back down to nothing. Instead, it was overtaken by spotting the Black Beast stumbling over a large pile of sharpened crags, before sliding down into a pile of hardened fossils.

Why did he think the Black Beast as a kid? _Was_ he a kid?

Would his end actually be at the hands of a _baby_?

Everything was wrong with this whole situation. Maybe he was supposed to die of the humiliation of realizing it, he pondered worriedly as his limping paw scrubbed at his face and tennaears in irritation. And that was when he smelled it. Something wrong. Something nearby. Rust and roach and petrichor. It was not of the forest, not of the Southern Pass. It was…it was…

 _There_ . He heard the soft keening from above, right where his nose pointed, and he tensed up. Not a _tinami_ – too harsh and loud. A matutine? Maybe, but…no – It was too high-pitched. A decent mimic, but—

_Oh._

The bright neon pink streaked up and across the Prince’s line of sight, three mouths – one within the other within the other - opening up to black as the bones and flecks suddenly exploded into a shower beneath his front paws. Thankfully, the Prince had his wits about him, and ducked as the tell-tale mouths - inner, middle and outer - snapped at him. His own jaw scissored up and snapped over the neck of the sudden attacker, and with a satisfying _crunch_ the thing was still, the pink sizzling into a lifeless brown husk.

He knew what they were, now, up close and personal like this. Giant insects.

_Phlox._

Mother had once warmed him of the phlox. Pesky, irritating, and dangerous. They hunted in murders within the barren wastelands of the South, beneath the ground, but only rarely in the forest. Almost never in the Southern Pass. They didn’t come north, not unless they were forced to; a boon, as phlox often took on the smell of their surroundings, and were thus camouflaged. But when they did come around—

Three, four, five more rocky explosions from below. Three further from the sides of the giant bone crags and windows above him. They emerged fully, their rib-cage legs leaping up and landing on the bones littered and showering all around them, with a piercing _khzzt-khzzt-khzzt_ in their throats. Their torsos bent and twisted into sharpened neon lightning bolts as they let out a cacophony of hungry screeches, their sights on the Prince. Meat was food, to them, when they were desperate. _His_ meat, in this case.

The Prince wouldn’t let that happen. With a roar, he set upon the nearest phlox, headbutting it into the nearest rib-crag he could. He wasted no time in rearing up and headbutting the next closest vermin. Even as his attackers were stunned, there were a half-dozen more, ready to move in.

Still, the Prince laughed as he threw his head back and let out a triumphant, daring roar. Why would _he_ be scared? The Goddess never chose a _coward_ to be her Prince! The Prince was always a leader, he thought as his limping paw effortlessly sliced off another attacking phlox’s inner mouth. Bright verdant blood spilled over his nostrils, and he savored it as it heated on his snout, before turning with a lithe grace and lunging at the next attacker.

He felt a phlox latch to his right hind leg. He jumped, then slammed back down onto his side, forcing the phlox to let go. Bones stuck to him; sediment and bones both showered onto him. He ignored those things as flung another enemy around in his mouth like a rag doll. They hurt, but what was pain? Pain was nothing to a creature like him. He had a job to do. He was the Prince, he was the greatest of all the Sena’s children, and he had to protect—

 _Protect?_ He made the mistake of hesitating as strange thoughts suddenly intruded and diverted his attention once more. Who _was_ he protecting? Himself? Or—

He felt another bite. Deeper, more stinging, on his other hind leg. Middle mouth bite. One of the other phlox had just injected him. _Poison_. Of the three mouths the phlox possessed, the middle mouth was capable of injecting poison to immobilize their prey. He needed to hurry, now. If he didn’t…

He let out a quick and violent kick to the nearest wall, but the phlox wouldn’t let go. Not even slamming into the side of the bone-crags would shake it. The Prince couldn’t help but panic as the moments passed, and the phlox wouldn’t let go. The remaining phlox, eager to get their mouths on him, converged. He could handle them. He had to. If he didn’t, the venom flowing into him from the phlox would paralyze him, leave him open and defenseless to the phlox.

He had to think and act fast. He couldn’t run away, and he couldn’t show fear. He was stronger than that. If he feigned being still, he risked them all setting upon him. He desperately swung his tail around to hit a jumping enemy, and then, just as he turned to face the next one—

“ _LEAVE HIM ALONE!_ ”

A gleam of light. _Metal_.

He somehow already knew what metal was. ( _A hard solid, capable of conducting._ ) What did it conduct? ( _Electricity_.)

A phlox’s browning head fell lifelessly in front of him as his movements slowed. He found himself struggling with the sudden, new information flooding his mind. What is…what is electricity? ( _The physical result of…)_

He could just register what was happening around him. The Black Beast was suddenly appearing in the edge of his view; as if by magic he’d been invisible, and now he wasn’t. With graceful speed he leaped onto another phlox, a long silver claw coming from its clenched hand; bright green blood splashed out of a long line on the screeching insect’s back, splattering over the bones with smoke rising front it as the neon beast collapsed into an unmoving brown pile.

( _electromagnetic…)_

No. Not a claw, he realized, as the surviving phlox began to scatter, to flee from the gleaming metal menace.

A _blade_.

“Hey.”

What is a blade?

“Hey…!”

( _…a blade is—_ )

Something suddenly gave on his hind leg, and the Prince let out an angry, pained roar as he felt the skin on his right hind leg _rip_ open, and his blood start to pour out of the wound. He turned to swipe at his newest attacker with his limping paw.

The Black Beast, for his part, jumped back, a dead phlox’s head with a broken middle mouth in his arms, his body covered in smoking lime blood. His claw—the metal blade—was in hand.

“You’re hurt.” Again, he sounded sincere. Even worried. “Let me help you.”

His right hind leg began to feel numb as he walked; a sign of phlox poisoning, for that was where the middle mouth had bitten him. Where the Black Beast had ripped the phlox off of him just then.

The Prince wanted the help. The Black Beast wouldn’t hurt him, not after saving him. After all, he was—

Wait, _what_? No! No, he didn’t need his destined _killer_ ’s help. It had to be a trap! The Prince didn’t know how, but he wouldn’t take the bait!

 _Never._ Letting out another growl, the Prince turned his head, turned his body, and began to stomp through the remains of the phlox, nose turned up. _I will never need your help! Never!_

Arch-like bones began to line the ceiling of the pass like ribs. The Black Beast followed, almost hovering in wait, but the Prince angrily flicked his tail back and forth, up and down, to prevent him from getting any closer.

The numbness began to spread to his stomach, his back. His angry, haughty pace began to slow as he continued forth, yet still he continued forth.

_Never, never!_

Brown started to spot gold on each sides of the mountainous piles around them. Long gorged lines in perfect symmetry were etched deep into the rightmost crags, dragging downwards a whole mile. They stopped at the edge of the bony, eroded claws of a skeleton of something not quite matutine and not quite _fllrenis_. Something in between. Something older than him. Something long dead.

His eyesight began to dim and swim the further he got.

_Never._

He could hear the bubbling of a waterfall nearby, puddling down into a nearby gorge, as his limbs became heavier with each step. Was it a _mllurenis_ laying down to rest from their never-ending torture? If so, it was fortuitous that it was there. The quest would be easy. The marrow would be obtained and the waters would be drunk. Then, _then_ …perhaps then the Prince could defy his destiny and vanquish the Black Beast.

Couldn’t he?

_Never…_

His balance began to waver; he could feel himself start to stumble. Still he wouldn’t relent, wouldn’t stop. He simply couldn’t. To do so would be the worst thing. It would mean that he, the Prince, was not in control. That he couldn’t stop the inevitable. Something within him, deep down, roiled at the thought.

_…Never…_

He didn’t even realize he had fallen until his head hit a particularly large, jutting hipbone on the ground.

_Ne—_


	4. Áberstan

__

_The dream. His death dream again._

_He stood in a clearing, alone. The Black Beast was there, vague and big and bright gold eyes staring down at him. He was afraid. He was the Prince, the first among the children of a living deity, and yet he was powerless. He knew he could not win this battle. He had to flee._

_This time, though._

_This time, as he fled, he turned to see his Mother._

Mother! _He couldn’t help crying out._ Save me!

_The Sena’s beautiful eyes looked at him, with an emotion he could only see as pity. He felt his hope dissipate, even as her nose went down to touch his forehead._

**_Soon, my Prince. Soon, you shall wake up from your long slumber. Everything shall be complete._ **

_He looked up at her, eyes wide._

_Wake up? Wake up from—_

He woke up from his somehow revised death dream (different, but why? Why was Mother there? Had it been his imagination, had she directly spoken to him that time?) to a new, yet familiar, sensation on his face.

_Hand. Hand on my snout._

His eyes crossed to look up – well, sideways, he was still on the ground – at the Black Beast, black face still on, rubbing his snout and touching the scar on his nose. That motion, of course, stopped as the Black Beast realized he was being watched.

“Uh…sorry. You were…I was just checking you!”

The Prince’s first and most obvious inclination was to snap at the hand, bite it right off, and then bite off the head of the detestable mewler. Lick the blood, and then howl to show his accomplishme—

_No. Not him._

But it would just take one second. One tick. One—

_Never him._

….What were _ticks_? Or _seconds_? ( _They are standard measurements of time for—_ ) Why couldn’t he just end the Black Beast here and now? What was _stopping_ him? He was vulnerable!

**_No harm shall come to them._ **

…He’d promised Mother. Yes. Of course he had. That had to be the only reason. It didn’t mean he had to enjoy this alliance, knowing what he knew. The Black Beast was a monster, but to break a promise to the Sena? Never.

That was one thing he could never do.

Then he felt that horrible thing’s hand on his head, taking advantage of his confusion, and the Prince—froze. The hand went back, then lifted, then went onto his head, then back again. Over and over on the Prince’s fur. Touching him. He wanted to pull away.

He didn’t. It felt…good. Really good. To his horror, the Prince found himself starting to rumble with contentment.

“That better?” The Black Beast’s echoing voice from his right side caused his tennaears to twitch. “You’re just a really big, weird puppy after all, aren’t you?” A chuckle. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

( _Puppy. A young dog. Usually cute.)_

He could only respond with another rumble, and his tail even began to wag up and down, thumping and sending bones about his backside as he pressed his head forwards the Black Beast’s hand. He hated this. He hated everything about this. His neck was exposed, his body was prone, anything could swoop in and kill him at any time. The Black Beast could easily kill him like this.

Yet he didn’t. The Prince couldn’t understand. An enemy killed an enemy, and the Black Beast was to be his enemy. The Black Beast was to kill him, and he knew it. He had to at least know the Prince didn’t trust him. Yet his destined killer was…was… _petting_ him. The concept sprang forth just like all the others ( _petting is stroking an animal that you care for_ ). And more than that, the Prince was allowing it to happen.

It made no sense why the Black Beast would waste such actions on him. He wasn’t a _puppy_ , for one. He was certain of _that_ much.

“Still, I’m sorry I touched your face.” Oh. The Black Beast was talking again. That annoying primitive maw slop again. “It’s just you were starting to wake up, and…well, I wanted to look at your nose scar…it’s…”

A pause.

“I didn’t offend you, did I?”

 _No. I’m not offended you touched that scar._ The Prince let out an annoyed huff, eyes half-closed. _I’m offended because you’re touching me to begin with!_

Yet he allowed the…petting to continue. Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him!?

“…You’re probably wondering where I got my scar from, at least.”

 _No._ _I’m not. I don’t care!_

He was curious but he would never admit it to an enemy _._

“And…I wonder if you know how you got your scar, anyways.”

 _How I got my scar._ A scoff as he looked up at the black face of the Beast. _What a foolish question. I got it when I…when I…_

His mind trailed off as he tried to remember the story. The glorious moment when he gained that mark, and yet lived, and which monster of the forest put it on him. The length of the battle, the other injuries, what the Sena said when he returned to speak of the great battle that would have no doubt felled others in the pack, yet he still lived.

There was nothing there to recall.

He could remember the smell of a hind miles away like the back of his paw; he could easily recall the first time he had tried to taste fruit from a tree on a dare, and how each watery, tart particle tasted.

But the scar…there was nothing but blankness in his mind. The scar, on the bridge of his nose, had always been there, as long as he could remember. And the furthest back he could remember was the first time he opened his eyes. When he was born.

 _That’s not right._ His blood, his bile, and even his Mother’s very essence within him, went cold. _I…I cannot remember…!?_

“At least you won’t have a new scar on your leg. Don’t worry.” The annoying Black Beast! Why was he interrupting his thoughts!? “I made sure of that. The goop worked faster than I thought.”

_Goop…what!?_

Instantly, the Prince used his bulk to shove the Black Beast away from him (who of course mewled uselessly as he fell to the ground), and quickly looked down at his phlox-injured hind leg. There was the faintest glow of purple that dissipated as he stared, but beneath it, there was nothing but fur. No bite-mark, no blood, not even the hint of injury having ever been there.

He began to shake at the sight. No one in the world had the power to heal such wounds. Only the Goddess, his Mother, did. Yet the Black Beast had healed him as if Mother’s power was nothing.

No. No, _no_ , this wasn’t right, this was profane, the Goddess was the world and he was her Prince, there could be no power stronger than her—

“Are you all right?”

The Prince’s response was to roar angrily, right in the Black Beast’s face.

 

* * *

 

The Black Beast didn’t talk to him for the rest of their sojourn through the Southern Pass. Instead, his head hung low, occasionally looking up as he tried to keep up with the Prince’s more grandiose strides. Every time he caught the Prince’s eyes, though, he quickly looked down. He almost seemed ashamed.

As the Black Beast should have been. The Prince couldn’t believe that his Mother would allow such a creature to live, much less come to be his destined killer. Not when he had a power of healing that wasn’t rightfully his, among all his other foibles. Only other strong creatures of the world – none of course not as strong as Mother – should or could have had such an ability. Those few creatures that did were monsters, ancient beasts from the time of the Glow.

Like the _mllureni. Those_ creatures. The Prince paused in his walking at one point. They could heal themselves. Getting their marrow – much less gaining access to the Water of the Skies – would be close to impossible, even for a Prince such as he.

Was that why the Black Beast was there, because of the healing? Could the Black Beast help him again? _Would_ he? But if so, and the Black Beast had unwarranted healing powers, and wanted to use them, why would he also kill the Prince? He didn’t understand. Was his confusion the Goddess’ will as well?

Then the Prince felt something bump into his behind with an _oof_ , and he gave a glare towards the Black Beast as he stepped back, putting aside his own thoughts once more for the moment. Their quest was paramount, and he needed to find a way to survive.

The gold flecks that adorned the bone-crags became all-encompassing and glittering. It threatened to blind the Prince as they shone, blanketing the Southern Pass all around them with reflective light. The bone-crags themselves became softer, wetter, more like real stone than bone, as a small stream lazily tripped over eroded remnants and around the rocks.

It was said that the gold on the crags were, in fact, the ashes of creatures who lived before the Glow. When the Glow happened, they died. Their bodies became bright ash, and this ash scattered and settled onto the southernmost point of the Southern Pass. There were also small trees and shrubs that crowned this area, but all of them were leafless, and protruded out like bones. Nothing _truly_ grew here, after all.

It was when they passed a particularly large, dead grove, that the Black Beast finally had a voice again. A cry, before he began to run.

“Oh…!”

_What is it now?_

The Prince huffed as he looked over towards the Black Beast. He lifted his head to the air and sniffed. There was nothing nearby, and no one. Only the Black Beast, and himself. It thus couldn’t be an incoming enemy.

He looked back down to find the Black Beast falling to the ground, onto his _knees_ ( _a large hinge joint in an animal’s leg_ ), hands grabbing and holding a pile of _skin_. His own eyes widened at the sight, and deep in his soul, something stirred.

He had seen this skin before.

A strange black and white pattern, mostly black with the bone being white, with small stripes of a color that was not quite blue, but not quite green. There was shred upon shred of the thinner black skin on the ground, and what looked like the cracked pieces of a smooth skull and chest bone of some kind, also black and mostly-white. Dust coated everything, along with blood. It looked like the molt of an exoskeleton, an uncomfortable and even painful molt at that.

Yet despite the sudden and overwhelming sense of familiarity, the Prince couldn’t think of what creature it could belong to. He just _knew_ he had seen it before, this pattern of exoskeleton, and there were only so many creatures to know about in the world. But there was no reconciliation with what he knew about Mother’s domain and beyond, and what he was suddenly feeling at that moment.

Then there was the Black Beast. His black face disappeared to reveal the pale face, and the expression on his face was nothing less than devastated.

“Oh god…” He could hear the whimpering as the Black Beast held the broken remains to his body. “You suffered. You suffered and I…I _wasn’t here_ for you, I…”

The Prince watched as his face turned upwards, and then—water was leaking from his eyes. Was…was he hurt? ( _Yes._ But how could _he_ know that?) He wasn’t obviously injured. Unless his eyes were somehow injured?

 _No._ No, that made no sense. It was something else. There was something else there, an emotion. One that the Prince only really knew when his Mother had sent him away, that very day. An emotion of inevitability, of…sadness.

_Sorrow._

_(A feeling…one suffers from loss.)_

The Black Beast would not, surely could not be feeling sorrow, unless—

**_You seek to learn the fate of your comrade._ **

His comrade. _Was_ this his comrade, what remained of them? If that was the case, then they had to be dead. Right? The Prince was sure of that. At the same time, that strange familiarity made him hesitate to commit to such a fact. Indeed, as he continued to look at the Black Beast as he buried his head into the torn skin, and salt began to mix in with the sand and fir of his smell, he began to feel his own chest hurt at the sight.

 _Why_ did his chest hurt? He wasn’t injured, either, not anymore, and the phlox hadn’t gotten anywhere near there in the attack. But the longer he watched the Black Beast leak water, the more that his chest hurt, to the point where he whimpered from the sudden, increasing pressure. He shut his eyes, trying to will the scary feeling away, to no avail.

The next thing he knew, as he opened his eyes, his snout was bumping the Black Beast’s shoulder. Trying to _comfort_ him.

“Huh?”

The Black Beast looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise on the pale face. In response, the Prince found himself bumping the other again, harder. Wait, what was he _doing_? Why was he _comforting_ the Black Beast, of all things?

“Oh.” Even with the water still leaking in his eyes, the Black Beast’s expression changed to something…happier. His hand slowly went to the side of the Prince’s face, rubbing it. “I still don’t know if you can understand me…but thank you. I…I think I’m beginning to understand what happened much better now.”

His eyes then narrowed, as he looked back at the ruined skin.

“You were in pain,” he spoke quietly. To the skin, of course. “But I know this isn’t finished. _You_ aren’t finished. I know that now...”

His eyes went back onto the Prince.

“I know you’ll help me,” The Black Beast slowly stood, dropping the skin to the ground. The shrub rustled as the skin impacted with it, and the broken skull rolled away. “And not just because that giant thing told you to. You want to know what’s going on, too, don’t you?”

The Prince stared at him, even took a step back in indignation. He…him, the Prince, the most glorious of the Sena’s creatures…he wouldn’t…he…

He found himself unable to rebut. Not even a peep came from his mouth, or his mind. A different kind of expression, one where the edges of his mouth upturned towards his eyes, which seemed to sparkle with the opposite of sorrow, seemed to come on the Black Beast’s face at the lack of response. The word for what he was doing, like all the others, came to him unbidden.

_(A smile.)_

_Happiness._

His destined killer was _happy_ to be with him.

“I’m glad you’re here to help me. I know I’ll solve this with you at my side.”

The Black Beast then turned and began to walk, leaving the Prince behind with the shrub. The Black Beast was _glad_ , and he? He felt something well up in his mind and heart, replacing the pain with something more exhilarating.

The Prince was, to his horror, feeling happiness at those words. _Happiness_ . Towards his destined…destined _nemesis_.

( _Enemy?_ )

Mother was…wrong.

Something _was_ wrong with him after all.


	5. MeteÞrng

The dynamic between the Prince and the Black Beast subtly changed, somehow, as the day finally gave way to purple sunset and finally, a dark blue night sky. The gold rocks and shrubs receded as they reached the great river, over which a single, great rock arch was the crossing point without getting wet at that point. Beyond the great river, remote stalagmites dotted the increasingly blank landscape, surrounded by narrow, sheer cliffs that jotted up like the trees in the Sena’s forest.

The Black Beast was now in front, or on the side, never behind the Prince; he stopped only once, to gather water from the great river into an extra black gizzard he took out of his body. The Prince was the one who was silent, opening his mouth only to drink from the river as well, his mind quietly ruminating from everything that had slammed into him.

Happy. He had felt _happiness_ towards the Black Beast. That emotion had died down, but it had not been replaced by hatred, as he had hoped. He wanted to hate the Black Beast. The Prince knew what the other was destined to bring and he wanted to tear him apart.

But he couldn’t. Somehow, he wouldn’t.

_I won’t._

_Why?_ Was he simply a slave to his destiny? Were the strange thoughts rumbling deep in his mind more and more often really his own? How could he not remember the animal whose skin the Black Beast had held, when he knew of all animals in this place? The origin of the scar on his face? The reason he could remember things that could not possibly exist to him, and yet _did_? Why was he so conflicted about the Black Beast?

What _else_ was being kept from him, that would help him understand the truth?

It terrified him that the answer to all of those questions was _I don’t know_. It terrified him, because it meant there were things he did not know. More than that – it meant he did not know as much as he thought he did about himself.

Worse of all, it had to mean that his beloved Goddess – the one whose essence he had ingested since he was born, the one who he existed for - did not tell him everything he needed to know. That he should be allowed all of the secrets and benefits of his position, had long been something that had always been assumed as a given for the pack member who had become Prince. They were not, however, present for him. There were so many things that _should_ have been afforded to him as Prince, he realized with an increasing _sorrow_ , that he had not even enjoyed. The most important had involved his future.

The Prince, as he had been made to understand, was the only one, aside from the Sena herself, who had the right to procreate and help the pack thrive. Yet when he asked to add his own essence to Mother’s nest, she had said no. Whenever he had asked, she would always tell him he was not ready. Or that there were other, more important tasks to perform first. Days passed, nights passed, seasons passed. He would do as he was asked. He would always make his request, and he was always denied the right to extend his own essence to the pack for the generations to come.

For a Prince to be in power for as long as he had been, and not procreate during that time, was unheard of. It was a sign that he was not worthy, that his reign was to be forgotten by his pack, until it was as if he never existed. It was, he supposed, one inner reason he worked so hard in her name. Why he did what she asked, never once complaining, until the last time. Her approval was important to the pack, but never more so was it more important than it was to the Prince. If he perhaps went a little harder, just did a little more, than the Princes of times past and immemorial, then she would, at last, show he deserved something for himself. That he deserved to live on. To exist.

And still, even in their final meaning, the Goddess seemed to withhold _something_ from him about… _everything_.

**_I know you are frightened. I know why it is so._ **

She knew of his distress and fear, yet she did not comfort him. She did not answer his questions about himself. She did not even fight to keep the Black Beast from him. The Sena simply let him go. He was not even afforded the token honor of being killed by his own pack, if only to give him the choice of avoiding the terrifying unknown that was now in front of him.

He had never been so uncertain before, or so… _humble_. Now, as he watched the Black Beast stop, for the first time, he questioned. Had he…truly been such a terrible leader? Had he been wrong about what he was? Would his Mother, or his pack, even miss him when the Sun of Many Colors rose next and he did not appear before them? Would they even _care_?

“Hey.” The Prince hadn’t even realized they had stopped, or that his head had hung so low, when the Black Beast finally spoke with his black face on. “We should probably stop for the night. You mind?”

 _Hmph._ The Prince huffed, but there was nothing behind it. _You are so easily tired, aren’t you, Black Beast? Just like a child._

Never mind that he would generally lay next to his Mother, coming to her early every night, and then he would sleep soundly at her side until the morning.

“I’ll take that as a no.” The black face disappeared, as the Black Beast bent down, pulling out the gizzard from his side. “Well, I hope you’re hungry, too. I got some of those weird monsters’ meat when you were knocked out earlier.”

Letting out another huff, the Prince sat down on all fours, limping paw first. His golden eyes stared as the Black Beast took out a strange square, then a strange gourd, and began to pour some of his gizzard’s contents into it. Then, from another gizzard (did the Black Beast’s kind have multiple outer organs like this? Where, exactly, did they keep them without getting them injured?) he extracted the brown remains of the phlox.

Then he tossed some of them in, and the Prince couldn’t help but crinkle his nose. What _was_ the mewler doing?

“Here.” Suddenly, there was a small pile of phlox meat beneath his snout. “I know it’s not much, but I don’t think you want me to cook this for you.”

Cook?

( _The art of preparing food._ )

The image of a pile of blackened meat suddenly swirled uninvited in his brain. It looked to smell terrible, and probably tasted terrible. His nose scrunched up more at the thought. Him, the Prince, doing this cooking sorcery? It seemed like a terrible idea for him to do anyways, so good. Let the Black Beast cook his own food.

As for himself, he slowly sniffed the phlox meat, and reluctantly took a bite. He’d never actually had phlox before, and as he slowly swallowed the piece in his mouth, he began to understand why he wasn’t going to have it again, letting out a hack of disgust. Phlox tasted _terrible_. Abominable, even, like he was eating a pack member’s excrement mixed with quintants-old hind flesh.

Wait. Quintants?

_(A measurement of time denoting—)_

“Not good, huh.” His thoughts were interrupted by the Black Beast. His back was turned to him as he hovered over the gourd-and-square contraption. “Can’t wait to try it cooked, then.”

 _You actually_ want _to taste it anyways?_ The Prince was appalled. _I can’t believe you!_

Nevertheless, he watched as the Black Beast hovered over a puff of steam for several more minutes, until a disgusting scent like matutine urine filled the air. Then, the Black Beast made the square _click_ and took the gourd away from it, revealing the now-orange meat of the phlox inside boiling hot water. Using his blade, the Black Beast quickly stabbed into the meat, lifting it out of the water and onto a slab of rock on the ground.

The Prince watched as heat and steam emanated into the air, the juices and remaining water sizzling on the rock as it was cut up into edible pieces by the blade. So, was this what cooked meat looked like, then? It hardly seemed worth it.

“…Blegh.” After popping a steaming piece in his mouth, the Black Beast’s pale face turned even paler, making his scar look even darker. The Prince couldn’t help but snort at the despair on his face as the other’s eyes welled up with water again. “Oh, ok, _god_ this was a bad idea.”

Still, to the Prince’s surprise, the Black Beast ate the rest of his meat, and even drank the water from the gourd once it had cooled off. A few moments later, a very weird, rumbling sound emanated from the Black Beast’s stomach and out of his mouth.

“’Excuse me.” He let out a long breath. “Yeah, never recommending this stuff to anyone, _ever_.”

_Good idea._

At least the Black Beast didn’t look so sick and pale after that odd expulsion from his face.

“…yeah.” After a few moments’ silence, the Black Beast looked up towards the sky. “This place…I still can’t believe it has so much color and _life_ , you know? It’s weird life, but it’s still life. And…well, then there’s _you_...”

The Prince blinked at those words. What did that even _mean_? Then there was him? Of course there was _him_. Why was the Black Beast separating him from—

“All this time, our sensors said this planet was devoid of life. Everyone thought there was nothing here.” Then the other leaned against a rock, his eyes towards the skies as he _smiled_ again. “But they were wrong, and knowing what I know now, I’m…glad they were.”

His eyes moved. No, the color in his eyes, his… _irises (The structural apertures of the eyes which control how much light reaches within the eye)_ moved, all the way to the corners, until they looked directly at the Prince.

“I really don’t know for sure if you understand me. I wish I did. But since I can’t, I like to  _think_ you can, even if you’re unable to respond to me.” The Prince tensed up at this. “Just…yeah. I don’t know how to explain why I’m here to you, and what the person I’m looking for means to me. I don’t know if you’ll really get it. Or…a lot of things, actually.”

His smile flagged.

“There’s so much to say, and I don’t even know where to begin or whether any of this would make sense to you. Or if what I’m saying will matter. Or—”

That strange hurt began to bubble up inside the Prince’s chest again. Before he knew it, he was bumping his snout into the Black Beast’s shoulder. The Black Beast, in turn, let out a yelp of surprise.

“…Ahah…ok, I’ll shut up then.” There was a scoff-like sound from the Black Beast’s throat, and the Prince couldn’t tell whether it was happy, sad, or whatever. “I should probably try to sleep, huh? Especially if we’re going to find these… _mllurenis_ that giant creature told us to look for.”

A pause.

“I wonder if you’ve seen one of these _mllurenis_? Or maybe you know how they smell? You seem to have a really good sense of smell. Especially with those monsters back in that gorge, pretty sure you smelled them before we saw them.”

Another pause.

“Yeah, I…yeah.”

Then he was silent, leaving the Black Beast to look down at his paws. His left paw, and his limping paw. They were suddenly very interesting to him. His paws were a little different from most of his pack – four normal toes, and a dew claw. Most of his pack had four or less; Mother had three. They were both covered in fur, though his limping paw’s fur was much thinner and stunted – one could only tell if they looked closely. Same with his limping paw’s joints being slightly more knobby, but it never stopped him from doing his duty. Otherwise, his normal toes were long and tapered, where most of his pack had short, stubby toes.

Yes. His toes were wonderful. _Normal_ , more or less, for a creature like himself. And that was it, so…no, he had to keep focusing on his paws. If he did so he didn’t need to think of those other thoughts. The other thoughts that were all wrong.

His other, wrong, unworthy thoughts. Why was he questioning the Goddess and her will? And…what was he doing with the Black Beast? The Prince’s actions towards him were not the actions of an enemy, as they should have been. They were the actions he would take towards someone he…he _liked_.

Why was he so compelled to want to like the Black Beast back, even though he also – still, for he could not forget his death dream - wanted to hate him? What was with all these gestures he couldn’t help making towards this thing, this Black Beast-shaped weight that Mother decreed would destroy him? What would happen to him when the Black Beast inevitably _did_ destroy him?

And… _and_ …what inside of him – a glimmer of something, flashing before him in an instant before it disappeared as soon as it came - did not _care_ if that happened?

The Prince’s tail began to shake, and he slowly turned his body away from the Black Beast. His eyes slowly shut, tight, unable to look at the Black Beast in front of him without feeling those strange sensations that seemed irrevocably embedded into his very being. What was this that he felt for the Black Beast that wasn’t hate, but wasn’t merely likability?

What was he missing? What was _wrong_ with him? Why did Mother not care? Why did he question?

What was the _answer_?

 

* * *

 

_The death dream was back. Stronger, now. More vivid. No Mother, this time, to give the illusion of comfort._

_The Black Beast was before him, great and terrible, and its golden eyes burned brightly into his soul. This time, it was moving. It was coming towards him, slowly and methodically, and so paralyzed by fear was the Prince that he could not run. The Black Beast was massive, larger even than Mother, and it took a single, earth-quaking step towards him. Then—_

_Then the Black Beast_ changed _. It became smaller and smaller, and its front hind legs began to lift from the ground. Soon, the massive Black Beast was no longer the nebulous, giant entity._

_He was the Black Beast of his waking hours. Small, pale-faced, weak, his wide eyes dimming from the fierce yellow glow to something different. Something with irises. Hands. A mouth that spoke mewling and timid words outside of the soul connection the Prince had with his Mother. His outer skin was different in color, no longer simply black but with added layers of red and white and gold and paleness like his pale face; there was even black fur that had sprouted from his head, and which ended just below the neck. The Black Beast’s scar seemed to stand out even more against the change in skin._

_A trick? No. The smell of fir and sand wafted in the air. He had no doubt about who it was. He was now the Not-As-Black Beast here. How did he change his skin so? For what reason?_

_What…_ was _…he?_

 _There was a word to describe the creature. It seemed to roil in him at that last question, struggling to release out into his consciousness, to be_ spoken _. Like all the other answers he sought so far. And like all the other answers, the word eluded him. Became buried within Mother’s essence as the Prince struggled to try and roar, howl, run, move. He couldn’t. To his horror, he found that he_ wouldn’t _._

_Then the Not-As-Black Beast held out his hand towards the Prince. And – for the first time in a death dream – words were spoken by his eventual killer._

He’s here. I’m here.

_The Prince cried out when he felt his limb start to reach out in an almost-automatic response. He tried to resist. His limb only shook in response; it ignored his desires and kept going forward, almost desperately so, to try and take hold of the hand._

Patience…just a little longer…it’ll be over soon…I’m not leaving here without you!...

 _The Not-As-Black Beast’s voice became unintelligible at this. His hand was almost near his paw, and then there were_ another _pair large golden eyes staring down at them_ both _, and beneath the eyes were a black void that got larger and larger and closer to them_ both _, and then—_ and then _it—_

The Prince’s eyes opened, wide and watery, and stared at the dark, starless night.

His eyes. Were they leaking? Were they going to? Why did his eyes fill with water? Was this sadness, sorrow? No. This was fear. The same fear of death, the same fear of the future. And fear of those golden eyes. The void. He didn’t understand. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep.

The dream truly was different, this time. There was no doubt. The dream had felt more real than before, more substantial. It raised more questions that he feared to answer – yet at the same time needed the answers _to_. What word was he missing in his mind? Why was the Black Beast Not-As-Black in his dream now? Why were there another set of golden eyes looking down at him?

Why had the dream changed? Had his destiny changed?

He looked in front of him, where the (Not-As-Black? Not-As-Black-In His-Dream? Too much to remember, so) Black Beast had been before he had _somehow_ drifted off, and saw that he was actually gone from that spot. His eyes narrowed; where had he gone? Yet, as he looked to his side, the square and gourd from their meal was still there, with a small bit of water still inside of it. Would he really leave those things behind? And if so, where did the Black Beast—

_Huh?_

He felt something gently push into his stomach, and he looked down. The Black Beast was curled up into a fetal position against him ( _He is asleep. Let him sleep. Sleep is…_ ), and though he wore his black face once more, there was an air of contentment around him. Of safety. Indeed, the Prince’s snout could have come down to the Black Beast’s stomach and face and nuzzled, if he craned his neck down. Just as Mother’s snout would, when the Prince pressed against her alongside the pack as they slept.

The Prince wanted to move. He couldn’t—again, somehow wouldn’t. But the Black Beast had come to press against him without him knowing, and even fell asleep as if nothing at all was amiss between them. _How_ ? How did he do that without the Prince noticing, without the Prince even waking up from the motion? How _could_ he?

Then he remembered. The square and the gourd had, with the Black Beast, been laying in _front_ of him when he sat down and cooked the meat. The square and gourd were now on The Prince’s _side_ , right across from where the Black Beast would have been leaning against the rock, if the rock was there.

It was still there. It was the Prince who was leaning against it now.

 _Him._ Not the Black Beast.

No, the Prince realized in slow horror as every fact of the moment closed in on him. No, the Black Beast had not really moved at all.

It was _him, the Prince_ , who had moved. Had curled around the other like it was second nature. Like the strange emotion he was feeling more and more wasn’t merely liking the Black Beast. Trusting for him, perhaps. Caring for him.

No _._

It was _more_ than that. The truth of what it was that increasingly plagued him and his existence dawned like the rainbow Sun would in the morning. A truth that was giant, bright, overwhelming and terrifying to behold.

It was love for his destined killer.

_Love._

The Prince trembled at the epiphany, all the way down to his bones, despite the warmth.

He knew that he would not sleep again.


	6. Untýdreas

The Sun long rose over the plains, and the sky was afire with crimson red, when the Black Beast finally woke up, rolling away from the Prince’s underside.

“Hey there.” The smile on the Black Beast’s face faded as he looked over the Prince’s form. “Are you ok?”

_No. I’m not._

The Black Beast couldn’t understand him. However, the Black Beast seemed to somehow sense the disquiet into his soul despite that. The Prince couldn’t understand how he could _know_ when true communication between them was impossible, and he still stiffened as the Black Beast stood, up, up, up to the tips of his legs. His hand went up to the Prince’s crown, rubbing the fur there gently. The Prince grunted at the touch, but cou—wouldn’t stop him. The hand started to stroke backwards, down his neck, and finally his back.

The Prince didn’t know how much time passed while this petting happened. He could feel his tail thump contentedly against the rock; it went up and down in a quiet rhythm alongside the rumbling in his throat. There was no heart in him to attack, or even to negatively respond, to the source of his eventual demise’s actions at that moment. Not to mention that said actions were strangely comforting in the face of the lassitude he was feeling at that moment about his situation.

His life was not his own. In truth, it was never his own. It was simply there, his soul left to the wind and dust of the South, to the mercy of the _fllreni_ and _mllureni_. To the Black Beast. He wondered if the Goddess, his Mother, even thought of him right now, or if she had already called the pack to set about finding a new Prince.

No family, no purpose, no future. There was nothing for him. All that was left was the answer to his question – and the fate of the Black Beast’s lost comrade.

“There, there.” One final, awkward, but still gentle pat on the snout, and the Prince actually whined – _whined_ , like a baby! – at the loss of touch when the Black Beast withdrew. “I’m not too good at being comforting…”

The Prince gave him a look. He didn’t think he believed the other about his abilities. On the contrary, the petting had been very comforting – wonderful, even. He let out a huff to express his incredulity.

“What? I’m not!” Now it was the Black Beast who was whining, as he rubbed the back of his black skull with his hand. “Really. I just know that’s how you pet…you know, animals…especially good ones.”

A pause.

“I’m also not very good at idle conversation.”

The Prince snorted again, and he slowly stood.  _That_ he could believe. Still, the ridiculousness of the Black Beast’s rambling was amusing, if nothing else, he supposed.

“…Uh, so…” Backing up, the Black Beast looked towards the barren landscape. “Where exactly do we find the things we’re looking for? I can’t say I’ve ever seen one befo—”

A keening sound echoed from the distance, and they both froze. Low, rumbling, and melodious. Even from afar, it was filled with sorrow, anger, and rage. Emotions that, in the forest of the Goddess, were almost always unheard of. Emotions that the Prince himself could almost sympathize with, for all of the same feelings now swirled within him as well.

The Prince’s hair began to stand on end as the ruinous ode soaked into his bones. It was just as the legends of the _fllreni_ and _mllureni_ stated. Just how Mother would speak of it, when she spoke of being up close to the ancient monsters that plagued the cursed lands of the South, and their terrifying transformations from what they had once been so long ago.

No. Not just like it - it was _worse_ to hear it so close, when his own thoughts were in such turmoil. His own heart began to beat fast. An entire intrusion of moving masses lay before the two. It was them.

It was really _them_.

“Oh, quiznak.”

The Prince almost didn’t hear the Black Beast mumble. He turned to look at the other, eyes narrowed, his fear momentarily replaced by something like stoic consternation.

_…Language._

And then confusion as the thought dissipated just as quickly. Wait _, what_ language? Of course the Black Beast was using language. Why was using language a problem? He shook his head; the annoying thoughts kept making no sense.

“Ok…ok.” The Black Beast took a deep breath. “That…that must be it, right? Is that what we’re looking for?”

The Prince looked back over, slowly, towards the horizon, and finally nodded.

 _Maybe. The monsters, however, would sound the same no matter what._ His mind ruminated over what the Sena had told him, long ago, when he became the Prince. _The only way to truly tell them apart is by the colors. Their skin colors are different. But you would not know that. You cannot understand me._

The Black Beast was staring off into the distance, hand held over his head as if to conceal the Sun from his eyes.

_What?_

The Prince looked where the Black Beast did. There was a range of large, smoothed rock mountains in the distance, and…no. That couldn’t be. There were no true mountains in these parts, only mushroom-hooded hoodoos that jutted into the sky. And those mounds in the distance…those were not mountains.

They were _moving_. Slowly, yes, but move they did. There was no doubt in the Prince’s mind. The _fllreni_ and _mllureni_ were _there_.

“…woah…” He could hear the Black Beast swallowed tightly. “…Please tell me those things aren’t what I think they are?”

Was he scared? Perhaps. The Prince certainly was. There was no overt, known way to actually _kill_ the beasts. Mother knew how to destroy them, but she never divulged how to do so. Hence, they couldn’t simply claim their marrow from their corpses after a glorious battle. In any case, it wouldn’t exactly help in their quest to gain access to the Water of the Skies to kill a _mllurenis_. When one died, all of the _fllreni_ and _mllureni_ knew, and after setting upon the ones responsible for the death, they would let the whole of the world know.

Their symphonic, melancholic song made everything tremble as it echoed through the sky. Most recently, the hind that had – _somehow_ – felled the _fllrenis_ and escaped before this whole mess had resulted in the entire forest taking to shelter, and even Mother had been tense at the sounds that had resulted.

A second wailing sound responded to the first, and the Black Beast was pressed against the Prince’s side. His fear was palpable beneath his skin, with the beating of his heart speeding up until it pounded fiercely in his chest.

“How do we get over there…? What if they start moving?”

That was an easy answer: it was not a question of if, but when, they would move. The monsters always moved. They never stopped moving. Some were fast, some were slow, but the result was the same. That was a thing the ancient monsters simply did. The Prince took a breath. It was possible that their hunt could take so long that they would be skeletons, more piles added to the rocks and the desolation, before they ever got close.

Still, the Prince was fast; he was the fastest in all of his pack despite his size. He _could_ possibly catch up to the herd in front of them. It would take time, but he was strong, he could endure, and could easily make it even before the Sun set if he steeled himself. The Black Beast, on the other hand? Weak, small, and while he was lithe and could outrun the Prince for a clip, his stamina would be otherwise wanting in comparison.

But how would they _both_ reach the pack in front of them, together…

_Carry him. Carry him on your back._

Another strange thought. It was getting…annoying. He really wished he knew where it was coming from, what within him would cause him to think such a thing. Really, though? Letting the Black Beast ride him like…like—

_It’s all right. He would do the same for you._

His strange thoughts seemed to be getting stronger the longer he stayed with the Black Beast. More than that, he found himself believing them more. He wasn’t sure which he was more scared of – that, or the giants they had to pursue. Still, the strange thoughts…had a point. Unfortunately.

He turned and bumped his head against the Black Beast, tossing his head back.

_Come on, get on, you!_

“Huh?” The Black Beast looked startled by the action. “What’s up? What are you trying to say?”

…Oh, right. Even with his perceptiveness, the Black Beast didn’t actually understand him. The Prince let out a huff, then proceeded to lower himself to the ground on his paws, lowering his head. A sound of surprise came from the Black Beast at this.

“You…you _want_ me to _ride_ you?”

 _You assume I have a real choice,_ the Prince sighed. _Hmph. Get on._

There was a pause, a hesitation, before finally, there was a weight on his back, and a careful pull of hands on his neck fur. The Black Beast was…lighter than the Prince thought he should be, even though he could feel the defined muscle beneath the skin as well. A smidge of worry for the Black Beast’s general well-being crept into the Prince’s mind ( _has he been eating enough? what has he been eating? Who has been feeding him? Isn’t it supposed to be—_ ) before it quietly sank back into the sea of his many other illogical thoughts. Simply more of his…love?...towards this creature that made little sense.

He had to figure out, and soon. But first. He stood up, and, taking one final breath, he shot off on all fours. With his speed, he expected the Black Beast, to struggle with staying on, and he would have to slow down. However, with a single shift, the Black Beast was steady, his legs firmly astride each side, his head bumping into the Prince’s neck.

He was used to riding a fast animal, the Prince realized.

He had to wonder where that experience came from, or he would, if he wasn’t so focused on running. The intrusion was on the move; delay now would be disastrous. Though they were slow, the _fllreni_ and _mllureni_ were said to be capable of faster speeds at unpredictable intervals, and when that happened, the abominations could easily outrun them and resettle elsewhere, halfway across the world, without warning.

They had to hurry.

 

* * *

 

The cries echoed louder as the two trotted through a field of rocks. Field calls seemed to go back and forth every so often; were they communicating? How could the monsters do so with such vile tones? What did the deplorable susurusses that hung in the air mean?

His thoughts were interrupted by a cry from his behind.

“Hang on, woah! _Stop_!”

The Prince screeched to a halt, sending dust everywhere. He couldn’t help but glare towards the one sitting on his back.

_What!?_

The Black Beast slid off him and began running towards a strange pile of pocked, malformed, discolored, reflective coral rocks, all encrusted with a substance that was decidedly not so reflective. They were unlike any of the other rocks or formations the Prince could recall seeing before.

 _What are you doing!?_ He let out a flabbergasted roar. _We will lose time, and our prey! Come back here!!_

The Black Beast didn’t respond, instead going inside one of the large holes. Strange creaking noises began to emanate within, first at the bottom of the pile, then in the middle, and finally at the top. Moments passed, before the Black Beast finally popped out of a large hole up near the pinnacle of the mound, and leaped out of it, landing on the ground with the grace of a jumping hind.

“Ok…!” Barely missing a beat, the Black Beast sprinted back, jumping back on the Prince’s back and shouting with a breathless tone. “Ok, we can go! _Go_!”

Did the Black Beast see something in the darkness within? If so, what was it? Why did he go in there to begin with? It had nothing to do with their quest, so far as the Prince could tell. It was just a waste of time.

In any case, whatever it was he saw within that pile, the Black Beast was not saying, and would not say. Still, the Prince didn’t miss the tightness and shock embedded in the Black Beast’s tone. Or the shakiness of his hands as they clung onto the Prince’s fur. Or that he kept shifting, as if he kept turning back around to look at something. None of it stopped until the strange mound was entirely out of sight, if not entirely out of mind.

 

* * *

 

That sensation of extra bother did not last for long; as it turned out, that pile would not be the only set of strange, almost unnatural formations that dotted the desert.  Some were larger than the one the Black Beast went into; others were more complex looking, and some looked more dilapidated.

The Black Beast didn’t ask to stop for these further landmarks. It was just as well; time was not on their side. The intrusion was on the move, and even though they had made good tracks, it was clear to the Prince that they might not make it, regardless.

“Ah…!” The Prince veered to the left at the abrupt sight of a rock tumbling towards them, and the Prince began to cough as dust began to accumulate in front of them. “ _Ngh_!”

The intrusion was on the move. They were moving, moving, and they wouldn’t catch up, they—

“ **WATCH OUT!!** ”

He was so focused on catching up to the herd that he almost didn’t notice the massive shadow descending upon him. He did, however, feel the hard tug of his neck fur, pulling to the left. Instantly, instinctively, the Prince, too, turned a hard left.

The spindly, browned, rock-encrusted paw of the behemoth above slammed into the ground, violently shaking the very world around them. It was all the Prince could do to stay on all fours and keep his balance, as the reverberations continued for several moments after.

The legs stopped, but the bulk of the gigantic creature did not. Its front slowly leaned, further and further, and its shadow followed suit. The Prince found himself galloping hard until he was finally on the front and left of the beast above, as it crashed into the ground, right onto its knobbed joints. This time, there was no way to keep standing. The Prince and the Black Beast both tumbled to the ground, rolling several times before they came to a stop, right near the shoreline of a lake neither had noticed until then.

The Prince recovered first, struggling to his paws. It was only then that he, at last, laid eyes upon his first – and, he realized, with the way his destiny was going, possibly his last – _mllurenis_.

The Sena had once explained how to differentiate between the great ancient monsters, on the remote chance a pack member could ever possibly encounter one up close. They all, in the distance, looked similar, as tall as the sky and just as foreboding. However, as one got closer, the silhouettes had differences. The differences only became glaring when one managed to survive to directly face one.

 _Fllreni_ were indigo, lilac, different colors of purple. _Mllurenis_ were always the colors of earth, copper and henna and sienna, with the rock skin punctuated only on the face by bright, almost phlox-colored gouges. Long, white, vine-like stalks adorned their back and sides, where their large, sharply-pointed tennaears stuck out like sleek wings. The _fllureni_ tennaears were smaller and could be anywhere on their surface; few had any kind of stalking growing from their backs.

There was, however, one similarity both shared, even up close. That was their bright, piercing golden eyes with glowing, Sun-like pinprick pupils, one of which was looking right at the Prince. Its mouth, nestled beneath those orbs of horror, began to open, revealing a giant cave, with pointed white stalagmites and stalactites, with swirling and twirling marks etched on them.

A long, dark tongue the color of rosewood ( _a dark brown kind of wood, a tree_ ) slowly rolled out, taking in a wetland’s worth of water into its mouth from the lake as the tongue retreated back into the cave. A strange, trilling sound emanated through the massive being’s body, before it, finally, let out an ear-splitting, body-rattling wail.

The Prince was paralyzed by the eye looking at him, and so much more so by the sound up close. When it finished, he could hear nothing but a high ringing in his ears. Not even his quickened breathing reached past the ringing. This massive beast was what they came for, and he could not move, could not speak. It was so much bigger than he, and he was—

_Blood, splashing down onto his face from his opponent. The flash of sharpened metal. The roar of voices all around him, above him. Another comes. Then another. More blood until he was drowning in it, and—_

He was afraid.

Compared to the _mllurenis_ before him, the Prince was small. _Tiny_. Insignificant. Not the son of a Goddess, not a cast-aside child, not a star-crossed exile. He was nothing. He knew there was no going back, now. But he _couldn’t_. He had to, but he knew it would be his end. But he _had_ to. But he was so afraid, frozen to the spot.

He almost didn’t notice the Black Beast running right towards the beast until it was too late to stop him.

_No--!_

That did it. His paws moved, faster than he thought possible. Fear of the Black Beast dying abruptly and uncontrollably came to the forefront of his mind. Suddenly, the thought of the Prince dying wasn’t so terrible, so long as the Black Beast lived. He didn’t think twice.

He charged.

He barely caught up to the Black Beast, dwarfed by the beast even in comparison to the Prince, when he saw a flash of metal, followed by the sound of scraped and punctured bark. Then, a _roar_. Not his. His ears e _xploded_ from the sound.

Then the _mllurenis_ started _lifting_ from the ground. The Black Beast instantly clung to a natural ledge on the front legs, and it took all of the Prince’s built-up speed and strength from chasing the Black Beast to leap forward and jump on before it was too late to get on. He almost fell backwards anyways, right off the _mllurenis_.

Hands grabbed hard at his scruff, and he managed to pull himself and regain his balance on the ledge, as the monster began to move away from the source of water.  As he did so, the Prince noticed the blade, embedded into the ancient, flaked skin.

It could pierce through to the marrow of a _mllurenis_. The marrow was bone, and it was said to be beautiful, nacred and marbled in multiple colors. They would have to cut deeply to even hope to obtain such a thing. That was, if they didn’t fall off of the bug-like limbs, and then crushed underfoot without a second glance. The leg dropping to the ground also caused everything on it to shake, and debris kept falling on their heads.

That didn’t seem to stop the Black Beast from taking his blade out of where he had plunged it, only to plunge it in even deeper.  The roar was higher in pitch, and this time, the leg stomped to the ground, teetering to the side. The Prince actually flew _upwards_ , finding himself flailing in an undignified manner as he found himself grabbing onto a ledge much higher than that of the Black Beast’s.

The Black Beast held on – barely – with the handle of the blade below. But he held on, and – much too the Prince’s surprise – took out of his body _another_ blade. This one was longer, with a simple pattern of white and black adorning it. This one he, too, stabbed right into the leg.

The roaring became even more pronounced (how much more pain could it take? _Was_ it in pain, or was it just annoyed?), and another, harder, almost petulant stomp followed. This time, the Prince grit his teeth and unsheathed his claws; the loss of gravity nearly ripped him away from his grip, but the claws helped him keep grounded. However, his head was beginning to hurt unceasingly from the noises the monster was making, and he knew his hold couldn’t last forever with the way the _mllurenis_ was smashing around.

He also needed to save his strength what was to come if they survived getting the marrow, after all.

Below him, the Black Beast was doing… _something_ with his smaller blade, something slow and deliberate. The Prince couldn’t tell what from his vantage point. Whatever it was, it was making the _mllurenis_ scream. As it screamed, it shook. Debris was practically raining on them, and far above them, newer, smaller shadows began to descend.

These newest shadows were mobile, and the Prince realized immediately they were phlox forms. One came closer, bursting out of the very skin of the _mllurenis_. This didn’t seem to hurt the beast, however, as opposed to the Black Beast’s work.

Were phlox and _mllureni_ connected, somehow? Were they in… _symbiosis_ ( _a mutually beneficial natural relationship between two different species_ )? Mother had never even mentioned it as being possible. Was he, the Prince, the first to witness this surprising phenomenon?

Then the phlox fell upon him, and the Prince found himself fighting for his life; his attention diverted from the Black Beast below, from gripping the ledge. Unlike the Prince, the phlox easily anchored themselves onto the side of the leg, and almost slithered downwards to try and bite him on his neck, his back, his face. He roared and bit back, his limping paw slamming into one, his teeth ripping another off the side. He reared up against a phlox that had lunged at his backside – he had not forgotten when he was last bitten, just the previous quintant. The phlox fell below, left and right, all the way to the ground.

Then, one of the phlox he had thrown off landed on the Black Beast’s ledge instead. The outer mouth of a phlox nipped the Prince in the ear, and he turned away, his mouth closing on the animal’s head and crushing it.  Warm lime blood splashed onto his snout and into his eyes, and he shook his whole body, sending splatter everywhere and forcing the remaining phlox back, if only for a moment.

When he turned back, the Black Beast was nowhere to be seen below.  All that was left was a puddle of golden blood, speckled with purple splotches.

The Prince felt panic suddenly rise from within the unknown parts of his soul. The Black Beast was _gone_. He was _dead_. And if he was not dead, he was in _danger_ and he had to find a way to _save him_ —

The outer mouth of a phlox snapped onto him, right by his lower neck, and the Prince could not help but let out a pitiful and high-pitched whine. He tried to violently shake the phlox off, but the grip it had on him was too firm. Too much. Any second now, the middle mouth would inject its venom into his very spine, and _then_ —

There was a keening screech, and the weight of the phlox loosened off him. The bulk of the torso fell, fell to the ground before disappearing under the foot of the _mllurenis_ with a distant _crunch_.

The Prince shook off the rest of the severed head. He then turned to find the golden-blood-encrusted Black Beast abruptly appearing as if out of thin air, larger blade in hand and mere inches from his face. Relief flooded his senses, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

_What—you’re alive—!?_

“Hey… _hey_!!”

The Black Beast then swung back several feet, right off the ledge, a rustling around accompanying him. The Prince realized at that moment that he was, in fact, _swinging_ , holding onto a cluster of the white vines for dear life. Back and forth he went, shouting with his black face.

Relief flooded through him. It was terrifying.

“I got it! I got the marrow!” His tone was excited. Elated, even, as he sliced the last phlox off the ledge. “At least…pretty sure! Uh, you know what something mottled looks like?”

The Prince let out a growl, hoping the Black Beast understood that yes, he knew what it meant.

“Do you know if the marrow we want is supposed to be mottled?”

 _Yes._ Another growl. _Yes, it is!_

“I’ll…” Swing. “I’ll take that as…” Swing. “A yes!”

_Good!_

“Ok, we just need to get to the Waters of the Skies, right?!” Swing. “So, where are the Waters?!”

The Prince paused, before looking up. Up, up, _up_ , towards the sky, where the main body of the _mllurenis_ was located.

“What?”

The Prince motioned his head upwards. The beast they rode on let out another ear-shattering roar. The Black Beast was silent for a moment, no doubt trying to decipher the meaning of his movements while trying to keep his ears from exploding.

“Why are you—oh.” A pause. “Oh…” Another, longer pause. “… _Oooh_. Oh boy.”

He got it.

For the next part of their quest, they had to actually keep climbing to the very top of the creature’s body.

 

* * *

 

Climbing the _mllurenis_ was far, _far_ more arduous than the Prince could have imagined. Once the marrow had been obtained, whatever had brought the phlox forth before did not occur again. Perhaps the cadence of the giant’s cries had changed, and the phlox’s reactions changed. Perhaps it was because the direct assault on their home had stopped. The Prince couldn’t know for sure.

What he did know – aside from the fact that he couldn’t believe he had not gone deaf from the constant, horrid howls and growls of the _mllurenis_ \- was that the absence of phlox did not at all lessen the danger. If anything, the danger to them, and for him particularly, increased as they got higher. He could not nimbly traverse the white strands as the Black Beast could; his body was not so capable, he found to his further irritation.

He was bound to the legs. He had to wait for each time the colossus took a step; once the leg began to fall, his claws released themselves from where he clenched. For a moment, he seemed to float, to fly, and when he did, he seized the chance to grab the next, nearest ledge up. He had to take advantage of when the pull of the earth ( _gravity_ ) was lessened, which happened when the massive creature put its foot down; it sent him floating for precious seconds that were used to seize the next highest foot hole the Prince could get to. It was not a foolproof method of climbing in the least, and past the mid-leg joint it became clear that the slightest mistake could be fatal.

_Keep going up. Keep going until you are up in the very sky itself. Higher than even the tallest tree in the Goddess’ forest._

Despite his care, sometimes he still slipped. Sometimes he fell back onto a previous ledge. He was hardly delicate when it came to injury – he preferred to ignore injuries, power through injuries, much as he’d tried with the phlox venom – and for most injuries it worked. Landing on his back in such a manner, on the other hand, _hurt_ , and the risk of falling all the way down always caused him to stiffen, making every mistaken landing more painful.

Once, he’d been stunned long enough that he lost control of where his body went after landing. He nearly rolled right off the side of side of the ledge, at a point where falling off and hitting the ground below would have killed him instantly. When he came to, the Black Beast was barely keeping him on the ledge with whatever strength he could muster.

“Come on…come on…!” The pale face briefly appeared on the Black Beast’s face when he finally, fully stirred. “Oh, oh…oh, you’re ok…!”

The look of relief on the Black Beast’s face caused the pain from the Prince’s fall to lessen. It was still so strange to see his destined killer so happy. It was still stranger to feel happiness towards that happiness. It made the Prince want to succeed at this quest. It made him want to see where it would take him.

It made him want to believe that the Black Beast wouldn’t destroy him after all. That maybe he wasn’t a defective Prince, sent out by his Goddess to be slaughtered. Perhaps…perhaps Mother was wrong about his death dream as well. He would return home, then, and tell his pack, his family, all about the journey he had. A quest a thousand Princes before had never undertaken, and a thousand Princes after would likely never go through.

The skies above them began to darken; it was not simply the setting Sun, which was still high in the sky. It was thunderclouds, swirling right over the behemoth they climbed. Lightning flashed across the sky, and water poured down like a cascade from the behemoth’s tennaears and strands. The debris which fell became softer, muddier.

This all only increased the danger. The Black Beast’s pace, already slowed by waiting for the Prince to catch up, became almost non-existent. The Prince’s progress stopped entirely at points, as the ground-like skin became so slippery and mud-encrusted that he could only concentrate on keeping the footing he already, barely maintained. He couldn’t help but admire the Black Beast’s stamina and patience with him; patience bred focus, after all, and the fact that he hadn’t fallen long ago was a further testament to the fact that the Prince had, in many ways, underestimated him.

Wait.

_Patience breeds focus?_

That was _almost_ right—

 _Later._ He shook his head. _I’ll figure all of this out, somehow. I am sure of it._

Then he came to the top, at long last - of the spidery leg, at least. And that was where the ledges that he could grab also ended. He was, for a lack of a better term, stuck, even as the Black Beast scrambled up to the top and disappeared.

_No!_

He had to get up to the main body. He had to. He had to finish this. But he didn’t know how to continue from here. There was no way for him to—

“Hey!”

He turned to see the Black Beast as he swung onto the platform that he was on, holding an extra-large collection of strands in both arms.

“Looks like you can’t climb up the rest of the way like this. No footholds for you.” Letting go of the strand he had been climbing, he nevertheless held onto a significant portion of white lines. “Don’t worry, though. I have an idea.”

The Prince stared, confused, as the Black Beast pulled up the longest strands, until everything that had been below his current stuck position was piled onto the ledge. Then, the Black Beast took the very end of the strands and began to wrap it around the Prince’s torso. The Prince allowed it, but was very, very confused as the other practically swaddled the vines around him once, twice, three times, before tying a sturdy-but-strange-looking knot ( _a manually made fastening_ ), securing him to the strands. He couldn’t help but shiver a little from the cold wetness of the strands, despite already being thoroughly drenched.

“Ok!” Once he had finished, the Black Beast proceeded to jump back into the still-hanging strands and climb up. “Come on, jump off!”

_What?!_

The Prince’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. The Black Beast wasn’t _really_ suggesting that he _jump off the ledge_ , was he? _Surely_ he misheard—

“This will work!” The Black Beast’s voice became more distant as he climbed further up. Oh no, he hadn’t been imagining the suggestion. “I promise it _will_ work! Hurry and jump!”

_I certainly will not!_

“Please…” The Black Beast stopped, then looked down to see the Prince hadn’t gone off the edge, was glaring at him. Desperation crept into the other’s voice, as if the slightest doubt on the Prince’s part wounded him. “ _Please_. Trust me. I know what to do…!”

Something about that tone made the Prince wince. Made him want to jump just for the Black Beast’s sake. Even if he couldn’t understand why he was feeling such increasingly positive, even protective, emotions towards him, even if it scared him, the Prince still found that he couldn’t help but give into them, even now.  Not even when it seemed blatantly obvious that he would fall to his death.

He couldn’t—wouldn’t let the Black Beast down. Not now. He jumped.

He didn’t fall. Instead he swung, much as the Black Beast had before. Back and forth like a pendulum he went, seeing the landscape all around him for the first time with a birds-eye view. He could see the shadows of clouds dotting the Sun-scorched landscape as they passed by; their airborne counterparts seeming to trot briskly against the red sky. He could see countless lakes as one would see spots on fur, and slithering creeks making snakes throughout the desolation. He could even see, just before the horizon blurred together all colors, a strip of the purest verdant green. The Goddess’ forest.

Everything was so _small_ from that point. It was a view he wanted to keep seeing, and deep down he couldn’t help but wonder whether he could go higher still, even beyond the sky. Perhaps there was something even beyond the Sun, and what if he looked down from _that_ vantage point? How small would the world below be? It excited him in a way he didn’t realize he could feel. It was an almost child-like wonder that he pondered.

For a moment, nothing else happened aside from those thoughts.

Then the _mllurenis_ roared so loud his eardrums seemed to explode and render him momentarily deaf, whereupon it reared _straight_ up on its hind legs. Everything around him surged vertically, and the Prince suddenly found himself surging right to the side of the main body of the beast.

His feet landed, sideways, on solid ground. He could feel the wet grass between his limping paw’s toes. He was there. He didn’t understand what had just happened, but he _made it_ —

The paw began to slide as the _mllurenis_ ’ front legs began to come back down.

 _No no no no NO_ **_NO_** _—_

He _pushed_. Pushed as hard as he could through the slick and mud on his feet and all around him, to run upwards towards less curved and more stable footing, as the thing slammed back down on four legs. He almost didn’t make it. His limping paw felt slicker than his other three, and he nearly skidded backwards. He looked downwards behind him to see the gaping view of the world below.

He let out a final roar, made one final push, and stumbled onto flatness just as everything shook from the impact of the spindly giant legs meeting solid mass. He managed to recover with a gasping yelp, taking several more quickly-paced steps to gain leverage.

_I…I made it to the top._

Nearby, the Black Beast was on the ground, breathing heavily. He was stretched out with his hands clenching the handle of the longer blade. The blade itself, deeply embedded into the _mllurenis_ ’ body, dissipated, leaving only the black-and-white handle to fall to the ground with a clatter.

 _No._ We _made it._

Taking a few more steps, the Prince allowed himself to collapse next to the Black Beast, who merely let out a moan and rolled over to bump into his stomach. Feeling the other’s warmth on him, he let his own exhaustion overtake him. It had been a strenuous journey. An impossible journey, even, one no one in the world should have been tasked to do. But they were. And they had done it.

There was no rush, then, for the moment, to get to what was to come. They could rest.

And when the Prince let himself slip into an exhausted torpor, that was precisely what he did.


	7. Léodhryre

__

_Another death dream, vivid as real life. This time, however, the glowing eyes were not so close. The Not-So-Black Beast was there, and again he was not alone._

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

_The Prince watched as another, taller figure walked forward, faint and dark, their silhouette a light purple along with the pinpricks of their eyes. Upon seeing them, the Not-So-Black Beast dropped to his knees, head bowed._

_His comrade?_

I failed you. But I’m not leaving here without you.

**_You’re broken._ **

_The Prince started as the other figure’s voice came through. It was distorted and dark and wrong, and its glow seemed to brighten as it stepped forward towards the Not-So-Black Beast. It raised its clawed hand, which began to glow._

**_Worthless._ **

_The Prince let a growl out at this, as the clawed hand began to descend on the Not-So-Black Beast. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was lunging towards the silhouette, teeth bared._

LET HIM ALONE!

_Something tangy and bitter went down his throat as he felt his mouth clamp around the raised limb of the figure, searing right through it. The figure let out a scream, and lightning shot out from what was left of its bone. It singed his face as it rocketed to the sky, and with a wordless murmur the silhouette fell to the floor, lifeless._

_The Prince snarled at the shadow, before turning his attention to the Not-So-Black Beast. That would teach anyone who would harm him, and call him such blasphemous things._

_The Not-So-Black Beast, however, was gone, and as he looked the silhouette disappeared as well. The Prince alone once more in the dark and starry plains of an infinite sky, the dismembered limb rolling away from him._

_How many times had he been here? It was as if he had never left._

_Maybe he never did, truly—_

The torrential rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung, and there was still a drizzle in the air when the two finally roused themselves from their stupor. The Prince was first to come to, eyes opening as he slowly pulled himself from the mud that had sucked his paws deeper into the mire and clumped on his fur with the phlox blood (had that been what he had tasted in his dreams? Surely it was, wasn’t it?), and he looked around once he got his bearings. The dirt was like that found in the forest of the Goddess, and with the grass and shrubs and even the occasional tree, it almost felt like he was back home.

Almost. It smelled like petrichor and mold, and compared to the forest, it was still barren. That such life could grow from the upper skin of the  _mllureni_ to begin with was still a surprise, though. He couldn’t fathom how it could be, save that these _mllureni_ , being very old and very powerful like the Goddess, looked to have the ability to grow life on their shells.

To grow, and to harbor it as well. There was a murder of phlox in the distance, but even though they looked in his direction, they did not move towards him, instead turning back and moving away from him. A trap? Ignorance? He wasn’t sure.

“Ugh.” The Black Beast moaned as he slowly got up, also caked in mud and blood. “Sorry about that…I lost track of time. Do you know where to…”

He trailed off, staring off and away from the Prince. Catching this, the Prince looked in the same direction.

Another set of the strange, malformed and discolored rocks – the same kind the Black Beast had earlier jumped into – lay in front of them, embedded into a hill of splotched grey-and-brown rock. This set of rocks, however, were much larger than the ones on the ground, and seemed themselves fused to the very skin of the _mllurenis_ in a way that nothing else on the beast seemed to be. Vines of green and blue curled around columns, and in and out of windows and the pockets of darkness within.

From an overhang at the top of this landmark, water crested and tumbled down in a steady stream. It all landed in a pool of hollowed-out skin below, before sloshing over into small streams and clouds of mist as the monster continued its eternal walk. The borders of the pool were caked in mud and dotted with phlox footprints.

_The Water of the Skies._

The place where the rain that fell directly onto a mllurenis was different from normal rivers and sources of water. It was symbolic and sacred to lay eyes on such a source of water, simply because of just how impossible it was to actually _get_ to a spring where the water was. To climb a giant, to ride the saddle of the world, was a feat that only the Goddess could achieve.

_We’re here._

To drink the cold, clear waters directly from a spring that touched the sky was the ultimate feat. It was said that to do so would grant the one who imbibed it a divine wisdom. The pieces were falling together, then; it made sense. The Prince surely wouldn’t die but would in fact ascend and gain the wisdom needed to learn the fate of the Black Beast’s comrade.

Yes. That had to be it.

So why was seeing the Black Beast advance towards the waterfall causing something in the Prince’s belly to suddenly _lurch_ so? Why was there an uncomfortable sense of foreboding, and why was it only now forming in the pit of his stomach?

The Black Beast, meanwhile, began to take out the square and the gourd again, along with a large shard of what the Prince could only assume was the marrow, with its splotches of countless colors – pink and blue and black and red and green, among so many others, over white and gold. It was much like the Sena’s fur.

“This must be it, right?”

Out came that gizzard of water, the contents of which he dumped onto the ground as the Prince watched. The marrow, meanwhile, went into the gourd.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He bent down, letting the sacred water drain into the black sac. “We’re in the sky, here’s water, so…this is the water in the sky. Yeah?”

 _Smart_ , the Prince thought. He didn’t mean it in an unkindly way, either, regardless of the growing churning of his insides at the procedures. _I didn’t even need to help him._

“Ok, but…you have to take in the marrow in the bone _with_ this stuff, right?” The Black Beast’s pale face emerged from the black face as he turned back, and he frowned. “Not separately. I mean, I don’t know. If it _has_ to be at the same time, that’s…that’s going to be a problem. The only way I can think of how to have that work in any way is to make the bone a liquid consistency is to boil it.”

He began to pour the water into the gourd, back tensing up.

“But if I do that, it’s going to be boiling hot,” he continued, gritting his teeth as he brought a hand to his head. “You’ll burn yourself, and… _ugh_ , I’m so _stupid_! So close and now… _ngh_!”

 _Don’t!_ Seeing the Black Beast deprecate himself – after everything that they’d gone through - made the Prince’s hackles rise in a panic. _Don’t blame yourself…!_

At the same time, the feeling in his stomach seemed to subside at the failure of the Black Beast.

 “I should have just asked that thing if you could eat the marrow after the water or… _something_!” The Black Beast shut his eyes. “I…I don’t want to hurt you because you drank a molten concoction of _woah_ —?!”

A strange _hss_ came from within the gourd, as did purple smoke. The Black Beast yelped as a puff went straight into his face, and immediately the black face returned as he skittered backwards.

 _What!?_ The Prince was immediately at the gourd. _What happened!? What did—_

He got to see for himself as the smoke cleared. The marrow bubbled as it settled fully in the cold water, letting out noises as it melted into a fine slag that then dissipated into the water completely. Less pleasant was the smell, which was like that of the phlox meat being cooked, but far more pungent and with a hint of rot to it. It made the hair inside the Prince’s nostrils burn from the outset, and with the smell that unsettling feeling in his stomach increased once more.

Nearby, a phlox popped its head up, made a skittering _khzzt_ noise that could only be described as disgust, then pattered off in a sprint.

“…Right.” The pale face came back as the Black Beast’s hand went to pinch his nose but tight. His voice, as a result, sounded weirder than normal. “That…solves that, I guess? Ok then. Wasn’t expecting that, but…there we go.”

He paused.

“Now…now you just have to drink it up.”

The Prince looked down at this.

“Right?”

The Prince didn’t respond. The churning in his stomach seemed to only get stronger, more threatening, as the concoction’s smell permeated through the air. Something wasn’t right about this. He should have been happy that he would be receiving divine wisdom, that he was defying destiny itself. And once he was done, he could go home. He was certain of that. He wouldn’t be turned away, not after everything that had happened.

And yet. _And yet._

He didn’t want to drink. If he drank this substance, he also felt deep down that nothing would be the same for him. More than that he didn’t know what would happen to him; no one had ever done this before. Maybe he was being paranoid – for all he knew, nothing would happen save a vision of the Black Beast’s comrade. But the fear of what _else_ might happen was still there.

A fear that only became more pronounced as his stomach pains became more pronounced. He looked up at the Black Beast, then at the gourd, then back at the Black Beast.

What was the Black Beast going to do once he got his answer? What would he say? Would he leave the Prince? If so, where would he _go_? From where he came from? Where _did_ he come from? And…why did the Prince worry about not being with him, about any of that?

_Love. That’s right. I...love the Black Beast. I do not know why._

For the moment, the Black Beast only smiled, as if he sensed the apprehension, if not the sources of it.

_I…I am scared…_

“Its ok.” He took his hand off his own nose, and stroked the Prince’s head and neck. “Whatever happens to you, I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

That clinched it. The Prince couldn’t help but trust him. And throughout the journey he had wondered why that was so – why he felt care, felt love, towards one who, just the previous day, was known to him as his killer, as an enemy. Wondering why he knew that the Black Beast wouldn’t leave his side, and why, through everything, he had had such conflicting thoughts and feelings towards him.

He was the Prince, the best of his Mother’s children. Yet at the same time he was all wrong, and he was denied a future. All he had was the creature in front of him now. Only by fulfilling Mother’s last request could he understand _why_. So finally, slowly, he lowered his head into the gourd.

He drank. It was awful and bitter and – despite the cool water – at the same time undeniably warm. He sputtered and hacked, but persevered, licked more water into his mouth and swallowed.

Inside his belly, the pain of his fear began to ripple outwards. But…but what was pain, to _him_? He was the Prince. He…he was no coward when it came to pain. Never had been before, and he couldn’t be one now. Not when it mattered most.

Between sputters he kept going, felt that rippling sensation turn to numbness as he drank, the cold water and the nasty odor and taste of the boiled bone resonating through his very core. Still he lapped it up. He had to. He had to know. It wasn’t simply about what the Sena wanted from him anymore – it was what _he_ wanted, now, more than anything.

More and more he drank, and he started to feel full. He ignored it. Soon he felt ready to burst from all of the water he was drinking, but he didn’t relent. The Black Beast, meanwhile, watched him, as at first, nothing seemed to happen. Indeed, outside of the numbness, and the full stomach which came as he finally finished up, there was nothing. Maybe a little sickness from drinking so much, but otherwise, there wasn’t much of a difference from before he drank.

_Oh…_

Then, after more long moments had passed, and confusion began to cross the Black Beast’s face, the Prince let out a deep breath as he flopped down to his knees, wondering when he would actually start getting that answer they’d come all the way for.

But…what if neither of them found their answers? What if it was all for _nothing_ —

That was when _all_ his insides begin to twist, all at once.

_OH…_

The suddenness of it took him by such surprise that he rolled sideways and curled inward, his breath taken from him. His belly, in particular, felt like it was bloating, then splitting, then contracting.  He let out a howl in reaction to the wretched sensation as it shot into his limbs, causing him to convulse wildly.

“Hey!” Instantly, the Black Beast was by his side. “Wh-what’s going on? Are you all right!?”

Something deep in his mind began to rumble awake as if prodded by the suddenness of what wracked his body, by the concern in the Black Beast’s voice, by his own concern for the Black Beast’s worry wafting on the wind, and then—

_Oh._

He began to _remember_.

_He’d been dying._

_Whatever Zarkon had done during those last moments, even his Lion’s reaction couldn’t prevent the explosion of quintessence from riddling and ravaging his body. He screamed, as his body was ripped apart, and then put back together haphazardly, in the only way that could have been done in such a quick amount of time by a powerful force._

_A powerful force that had tried to save him from the terrible fate that the enemy had tried to impose upon him. In mere seconds that had felt like a thousand lifetimes, it connected him to its own life force, drew him into the astral plane, and then teleported him away as even that became overwhelmed with energy._

_It had not been enough._

_He felt air and wind, and then the hard slam of his spine smashing onto the ground with such force it shattered the glass of his helmet. Not that it mattered if that had broken him – he was already shattered from within, burned out like a candle. He had no means to move as his legs and arms – even his right arm - crumpled uselessly around him, and his suit was smoking from the quintessence still washing over him._

_The sudden, strange hollowness in his body and soul slammed down on him with even more force, and he let out a cry. Choked, bloodied sobs came to his throat as small pieces of glass pushed into his mouth and cut his cheek. Tears mingled with blood and dropped into the sides of his helmet, filling his ears. This was different from every other time that he could remember being hurt. This was worse. Grave. Mortal._

_This was it. This was the end. He’d long ago accepted he would die young, that his body would be destroyed one way or another, so that wasn’t the worst part of being here at this moment. No, dying wasn’t what he hated._

_It was that he never even got to say goodbye before he went, and that they may never know what happened to him after all_.

The Prince choked on his gasps as his spine began to curl like a worm. It didn’t hurt, somehow, but he still _felt_ it, and it felt so _wrong_. He shouldn’t be bending in this way, so much into himself like this, he shouldn’t—

He turned to look, wild-eyed, at the Black Beast. His brows furrowed worriedly over his purple eyes and pale face as he looked the Prince over, trying to get a grasp on the Prince’s thrashing body. His scent betrayed his all-too-vivid fear for the Prince. For his life, his safety, his—

The Black Beast had served him _poison_.

 **_STAY AWAY_** _!_ The Black Beast ignored the angry, frightened barking and roars and retching, and managed to lean in closer to try and help. His scent suddenly wafted into the Prince’s nostrils, causing him to let out an involuntary whine. _Stop!…what did you…!?_

That familiar scent of the Black Beast was stronger than ever, and it filled his mind with countless fuzzy images of color and figures forgotten and unknown, countless more concepts pulsing in his brain that threatened to drown him. He kept wondering why it was all so familiar before, and now, unfortunately, circumstances seemed to dangle the answer closer and closer.

It was when he felt his tail compress and _snap_ from the pressure that the answer abruptly came to him in the long-dead memories.

**_Keith_** _._

_Out of everyone, he’d thought of Keith the most as he stared upwards at the shadow that was slowly descending onto him. Out of every one of the Paladins, it was him who had been closest to him. The most important, though everyone was important to him, but_ Keith _…Keith was important in a different way._

_Keith would be devastated when he realized what had happened, when he found Shiro’s seat empty. Devastated, and scared, when he realized he would have to lead Voltron in his stead. That the promise that had been made between the two of them would be filled faster than any of them would have wanted._

_But deep down, he had always suspected his luck in surviving for as long as he did – he had no business doing so, in all honesty. Deep down, he always knew Keith would have to take his place, no matter how much either of them wanted to deny it._

_His breath was beginning to grow shallow from his injuries, as the gigantic shadow’s eyes opened, revealing two giant pink orbs. He closed his own eyes. He braced himself as best as he could, for whatever ignominious end was in store for him at the creature’s feet. At least, even with all of the moment’s indignity, it would be over quickly._

He was _changing_. He was slipping from his own skin and now, he could feel everything that he had been dissipating within him. His instincts, his power, his _identity_.

The Prince let out a terrified howl, in mind and body, to call to his Mother, to call for anyone of his kind who was near, to _stop_ what was happening to him, to come to his aid against an enemy no one could reach. His psychic bond faltered; trembled, frayed, and then with a snap he felt his inner voice strangle itself and be silenced. His other voice, his howl, also betrayed him; he could feel something in his throat thicken, even as his neck thinned. The sounds coming from him deepened and lessened in magnificence with each passing second, until what came out couldn’t even be called a proper howl anymore. It was simply a mewling cry of fear from his mouth.

It was after a strangled mewl that something liquid then bubbled up from his stomach and, finally, out of his mouth before he could take another breath, something warm and sour and sweet ejected out like river rapids. It was not water, but a strange off-white – almost a light purple - substance which soaked his body and dribbled down his chin, with only a few lines of blood accompanying the teeth which fell out alongside it.

Mother’s essence. His link to her, his reason for existing. His body was _rejecting_ the Sena’s power—

“I’m here.” The Black Beast – _Keith_ , his pulsing brain supplied, and oh did it pulse beneath the skin of his very skull -  was behind him now. His voice betrayed his shock at the sight of the Prince’s condition. “Hang on, come on, you can _do_ this! Focus on me!!”

**_Do not fear. I can help you._ **

_His eyes, half-closed, slowly focused, then stared, as the shadow shifted and unsheathed a part of its surface, revealing what looked like a skin flap. The flap shifted, became engorged, until it was like a large, bright red teardrop hovering over his face._

_A warm liquid began to drip onto his cheek through the cracked helmet glass, as the bubbly organ descended._

A…teat?

_He wasn’t sure how to react. Or how that would even help._

**_I will save you._ ** _In response, the creature’s voice was again in his mind, echoing an assurance he found hard to resist in his state._ **_Drink, Paladin. You will see._ **

_More liquid began to drip, this time onto his lips. He coughed, sputtered, then finally, with monumental effort, opened his mouth and received a proper mouthful. It was warm, with a strange taste. Like whole milk, albeit with a strange sourness that made it seem tart. He felt a bit awkward about the whole thing, especially since he knew nothing of the creature offering it – or what accepting it even meant._

_He could only hope he was making the correct choice to trust this strange being._

**_I will keep you safe…_ **

Out of his ears. Out of his nose. Tears of off-white-and-lilac. The substance trickled out of every open orifice, to the point where his pores were oozing a thin layer of his Mother’s milk down into puddles on the ground.

The Prince tried to claw at the Bl—Keith, Keith, _Keith_ , the newly awakened part of his mind seemed to shout louder and louder as the seconds went by—as his fight or flight reflex pumped adrenaline through him, tried to get right at his face. It was _his_ fault, he led the Prince to this fate. It was him who had sought the answer to his question. He’d been a fool to trust that it wouldn’t end like this. Been a fool to trust that feeling of caring, of loving, that somehow stirred within him and strengthened in such a short amount of time, and to trust it would lead to nothing but doom.

Familiar or not, love or hate, perhaps if he hurt him, perhaps it was not too late to—

He let out a snarl and tried to snap his teeth at the Black Beast’s throat. But his teeth had fully fallen out now, and a far more benign set of bones began to sprout from beneath his shrinking muzzle. His dew paws visibly ripped apart from the rest of his front paws and he felt the same happen to his back paws, with the digits separating and thinning. His left front leg began to color a pale tone as the fur fell off, and the right – his limping paw became something hard and bright, with a faint purple glow that scared him.

_Metal._

He threw a frenzied swipe with the changed limping paw. It landed on the B- _Keith_ ’s shoulder with a hiss, burning through black and down onto the true skin beneath. A cry came from the other, and the Prince tried to follow up with a wilder, stronger hit - an attack with all his remaining strength in it. He’d match the scar on his face with so many more if it meant he could _stop_ this from _happening_.

He found his balance abruptly failing him, and himself collapsing forward from his upper hind legs ripping out from under him and snapping outward from his hips, instead.

_No…no…_

He could feel similar horrible changes, violent changes even though they still didn’t hurt, happening everywhere. Things thinning and shrinking and compressing. His smell dimming, his superior eyesight and hearing giving way to unbearable dullness through the sour stench of liquid. His tennaears withering into sheaths of dried, crackling masses of ash. His magnificent fur, save for that which started on top of his head and his stomach, began to shrivel and whiten, almost all of it falling out in clumps around him. His organs and bones and muscles shifted, roiling around underneath his tightening skin until they, too, contracted.

He let out a whimper as he looked up, tried to swipe again. It was weaker this time, lacked real conviction, and didn’t even hit. He couldn’t bring himself to try anymore. Not against _him_. Not against _Keith_.

_I can’t. I can’t…hurt him…_

Weaker and weaker was his prowess, the senses he had been so proud of once before now disappearing. In their place were images in his mind that before he had been unable to recall, for it was as if they belonged to someone – some _thing_ – else entirely. Yet they didn’t, even as the Prince tried to deny it in those final moments. He clung, tried to, but his grip was all but gone.

In one way, it was true what the future had held for him. The death dream had been right all along. The Prince was indeed dying.

Something else within was emerging from him, body and mind - a dormant butterfly clawing out of a teratoid cocoon - and he knew it. He and Keith both did.

_The first two things he remembered after he began drinking the creature’s offering – the last two things, the more he realized it – was the strange sensation forming in his stomach and the tingling in his bones. He found that could move his limbs again, and he did so tentatively, as they were healing just as the creature above him promised. He could also feel a new burning energy in him, one that re-invigorated his core and regenerated organs and cells that had been irrevocably destroyed only mere ticks before._

_However, it was the strange sensation, and not the tingling, that caused him to look down at himself as he slowly sat up. His suit was starting to feel – and look - unexpectedly tight and uncomfortable and_ itchy _around his belly. The temptation to throw up what he just imbibed began to rise in him as he suddenly felt a foreign sensation begin to ripple outwards from his abdomen. It was sickening, compelling, and increasingly volatile at the same time._

_Something…something wasn’t right about this. Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted. Maybe he should have—_

**_Drink._ **

_The gentle inner voice, and the compulsion to obey it, was somehow far stronger than before. He gasped as more liquid dripped onto him, and he looked up at the proffered alien teat once more. To his increasing worry, he found himself opening his tongue out to receive the droppings without any hesitation, the tingling sensation in his body strengthening with each swallow of the liquid, even as he felt the healing of his insides ending. The tightness in the midsection of his suit increased along with the horrible itch as he took in more than he had surely thought humanly possible._

_Of course, he realized, this creature’s gesture wasn’t just to help him. Something_ else _was being done to him as well. This had to be a trap, somehow, and like a desperate idiot he had fallen for it. What_ was _this stuff—_

 **_Come up._ ** _He found himself drowned out by the voice as the rate of liquid quickened to a line._ **_Come up and drink from me, Paladin._ **

_“No—stop!” The horrible bloated tightness spread to the rest of his body as he fell back onto the ground, grabbing his increasingly rounded stomach as he felt his organs start churning and his spine began to twist and lift from the dirt. He sputtered and groaned, his eyes shutting with a cry. “Please,_ enough _, I can’t_ take _anymore, I_ have _to get back to—"_

 **_I am sorry._ ** _The voice sounded sincere in its apology, and he was uncertain whether to believe it or not. He found himself involuntarily leaning towards the terrifying former choice as he, to his horror, began licking the up white concoction that he had missed off the ground while more poured over him._ **_You cannot._ **

_He couldn’t stop, and that was what scared him the most – that he was again losing his autonomy in what was happening to himself. The more he drank, the more he felt himself slip. His shaking hands held onto the underside of his increasingly bloated body, his suit straining terribly against his growing gut, the itch beneath becoming utterly unbearable. Yet he was unable to control himself anymore, despite feeling like he was ready to burst. His body could only respond with_ want _. More, and more, and_ more _._

_He wanted it…needed it…_

_“St—N…_ NO _…!”_

_No - he had to stop, he had to vomit, he had to get it all out before it was too late—_

**_Not yet._ **

_“HrrggGGU_ **UUUH** _…!”_

_It never happened. He watched in terror as his armor, unable to accommodate the rapidness of what was happening, ripped at his horribly swollen stomach first, revealing the rapidly-growing undercoat of black fur down his linea alba, along with his rapidly browning skin, the organs beneath growing and stretching and poking outwards. The rip spread upwards until the chestplate cracked from the increasing bulk of his upper torso. Then his arms, his fingernails, metal and flesh, elongated through the gloves as the seams of his shoulders began to tear in half. Then the legs. His toes and feet._

_His head, as the helmet cracked from the pressure of his ears suddenly pushing against the sides. Each breath, each drop, he just kept growing bigger. And he couldn’t stop drinking and growing, for as he rolled over onto his side in a fetal position, his tongue instinctively pushing out to get what he missed off the ground, the tingling and itchiness, the pain all suddenly became pleasant. Warm. Inviting, even. His eyes widened as he felt another raw sensation roil in his head._

Hunger.

_It was stronger than whatever human reason he had left to muster, and it violently seized control._

He felt so small. Keith was shooting up around him, and the Prince couldn’t stop him from getting bigger. If he was to end the Prince’s ignoble life, so be it.

But that wouldn’t happen, and the being inside the Prince – the being the Prince was becoming - knew it. The brilliant golden-green irises, the ones which had looked upon everything so proudly, lost their color, melting away to reveal a blander, greyer color as he slowly stared over at the other with wide eyes. But there was now something else seeping into those eyes as he kept staring at Keith. Compassion. Understanding. Both emotions he had almost forgotten completely, both having been buried deep within the Prince’s base psyche this entire time.

There was something else, as well, something even more foreign to the Prince, but not to the creature he was turning into. There was the realization of humanity.

Keith’s eyes softened as they took in everything that was happening, as real relief surfaced in the light of his own irises. The Prince took in a shaky gasp within his smaller lungs, his insides burning from their sudden, inexplicable intolerance of the atmosphere. As if the Prince was taking in air, for real, for the first time in his life.

No. Not the Prince.

Keith’s arms gently wrapped around his shrinking form as the trembling creature he was becoming finally fell forward into a warm chest, one final inhuman sound escaping his throat on the way down. His body was spent of its energy, and the powerful instincts he had so relied on were all but gone. Yet the questions the journey had put before them both were answered.

Keith had not come here to hurt him. Keith would _never_ want to hurt him. Keith had come for a different reason entirely.

And he…he wasn’t the Prince. Not anymore. He would never be as he was in the forest, ever again.

He had carried another name within him all along.

 _He didn’t feel big enough. The teat still dripped its liquid on him, and he still took it into himself. But he wasn’t sated. He wasn’t_ done _._

_Letting out a growl, he tried to stand for the first time on his two legs to obtain more of the manna. Now, though, they would not let him stand as he had before, bent and changed as they now were, and he tottered heavily before landing on his knees. Fine, then. He let his face stretch out when it too began to shift, tongue elongating to take every drop he could into himself._

_Soon, his hands lifted, his arms – even the metal one - fell forward, and still he stretched longer as he grew. Despite being on all fours now, he had stretched enough of his body that he could actually lick the dripping liquid right from the bottom of the plump, ripe organ before it even dropped downwards. Fur soon engulfed those limbs as well._

_His ears pounded from the chirping of birds that flew, miles away. He could smell trees across the river he had never even seen before, much less scented before. His hands and feet both began to elongate and sharpen and merge together into claws that could feel particles in the dirt beneath him – and rip and tear without mercy. And each change after giving into the hunger felt amazing._

_It wasn’t enough. His newly-created cravings screamed at him that he needed to be bigger and stronger. He wasn’t a mere runt begging for scraps. He wasn’t a pitiful, broken being discarded for his many imperfections. He wasn’t a scared child who couldn’t even defend himself, much less others he cared for. He wasn’t a dying man. He couldn’t be. He needed to be something else, something_ better _. He needed to show he was_ worthy _of this gift he was being given._

 _He realized he was being changed against his will, but the power now coursing through his veins wasn’t letting him care. It was forcing him to accept what was happening, without recourse. Indeed, he paused and fought against what was happening, only once, when he was taking a breath. At once he felt something on his head crack open, and he looked down at the remaining clothing still barely clinging to his furry flesh as pieces of white and black fell off the side of his head. His ears swiveled at the_ splat _the pieces made on the ground. They were vestiges of…something. Of…himself._

 _He…what was he doing? Wait, why was his armor so tiny on him all of a sudden? Was that_ fur _growing on his Galra arm, and…what had the creature_ done _to him? This was wrong, and he needed to regain control of himself.  He needed to do it now, before it was too late to—_

_The small cry of humanity that could protest was drowned out decisively with the answer as another drop trickled down his nostrils, the scent driving him mad with craving._

Hungry. I am hungry because I’m too small and weak for what I am.

_And so, overwhelmed, he kept at it for what felt to be an eternity, his human thoughts and fears – what was left of them that were still on the surface – meshed with and were overwhelmed by baser instincts until he could no longer hold on. Until all he could do to preserve himself was to let go and drown._

Please. I don’t want to be small and weak anymore.

_All the while, the creature simply waited. Watched as the torn Paladin armor finally gave way to the rapidly-growing newborn beast she had created. Its half-closed eyes blazed golden with contentment and dignity and pride as, at last, his size was such that he could take all her hanging teat with startling ease into his mouth. A massive, monstrous paw kneaded her, and his head kept bumping her stomach as he feasted._

_She lay gently on her side, the ground shaking from the impact. The new thing of her own making showed no fear towards her as he simply padded over to her, sating what was left of his emptiness on her essence. It was only a matter of time before the thing she created finally lay down with a content rumble, looking up at her with an innocent infant awe as he drifted off to sleep against her side._

_There was no overt trace of the Paladin he had been before. Just as she’d hoped, as the teat retreated into her body. There was nothing to behold on the surface but what she had turned him into._

**_Sleep, Paladin._ ** _She could sense him, buried deep down within her creation’s body, trapped in the gilded cage of his own mind and soul. He slept, now, and would not be disturbed._ **_Be safe inside yourself. The day will come when you will not weep in sadness or pain. I promise._ **

“…Keith.”

His first word in what really was a lifetime; his voice croaked from disuse as real speech finally returned to him. His head instinctively found itself nestling on the crook of Keith’s uninjured shoulder, his hair cascading all around him, as he otherwise crumpled into the lap offered. He could feel Keith smiling back down on him, and it filled him with an indescribable sense of comfort, even as all his memories, good and bad, gently began to resurface in his mind to ground him to the moment a little more.

“I’m still here.” Keith wiped some of the hair from the other’s face, crooking it behind his ear, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “I told you, no matter what, I wouldn’t leave without you. I knew it was you, the moment I saw you, and now…”

At this, he shifted, just enough to bring a hand up to his mouth.

“…Now I’ve got you.”

A beep sounded from the BLIP device fastened to his wrist.

“Drone X21, this is Keith reporting in. I need a mission extraction to the temp base. Sending coordinates now.” A soft wind blew into the grotto, and the cold blue water rippled gently at their feet. “I’ve got him. Tell everyone…he’s back.”

_I’m…I’m back._

With that last realization, the Sena’s prophecy, to him, seemed fulfilled. It had been true all along. There was no overt trace of the Prince he had been before, not anymore.

Cradled in Keith’s arms, Takashi Shirogane gave in and wept.

 


	8. Eallnacod

He didn’t remember the last time he cried like this. Couldn’t. And right then, he didn’t care that he was crying. He didn’t care that he was naked and cold, covered in mud and blood and water and his own bodily fluids, among other things. Or that the air he was breathing made his lungs feel like they were on fire. Or that he was _exhausted_ , like he had been asleep for too long and his body ached from the immobility that came with such a thing - or like he’d been awake for days without respite, his mind racing and his eyes seeing spots out of the corner of his eyes.

Or that Keith was holding him, rocking him and whispering to him reassurances like he was a child, his beautiful, unique scent still somehow wafting into his dimmed nostrils. Or that Keith could see every single scar that had been inflicted on him, origins remembered or otherwise as human and monster, all of them laid bare like a map for Keith to explore in detail. It didn’t matter.

“Shh, shh shhhh.” A hand gently went through his long, sticky hair. “It’s ok. I still got you and I’m not leaving you here. They’re coming for us. I promise, Shiro, it won’t be long.”

“Keith…”

He took another, deep, sobbing breath through his nostrils at this. His _human_ nostrils. He was _human_ again. Or, he was at least as close to human that he _could_ be anyhow. The percentages were irrelevant at that moment. He was awake. He was…he was _himself_. He was Takashi Shirogane. _Shiro_. Everything that entailed, his thoughts and feelings. They were his own again.

He was back, he was going _home_ , for _real_ , and—

_Shadow._

It descended, covering the entire pond, and part of the flattened ground of the _mllurenis_ ’ top, as it floated. Instantly, Keith’s hold on Shiro tightened, and Shiro felt himself leaning closer towards Keith’s chest and shoulder in response, as the massive creature landed with a shaking thud. The even more massive beast that they stood on let out a slow, agonizingly mournful groan from the impact, but did nothing more.

Bright pink eyes opened as they looked down at him and Keith, and Shiro’s first reaction was terror. She’d towered over him before, but now, compared to the Sena, for the first time in some time as _himself_ , that he truly felt small. Minuscule in comparison to a giant, alien organism. When compared to the wonders – and terrors - of the universe, humans…humanity was _tiny_. Insignificant.

**_My Prince. It is done._ **

The second reaction was not insignificant, either, as Shiro felt bile in his throat at the sight, and the sound in his mind, of the one that called to him. She came to him. She had the _audacity_ to come to him as he lay there exposed again with Keith, after everything that had happened. The ache in his belly from the change lingered; he could feel the tracks of his tears drying on his cheeks as Keith’s hold shifted to go for his blade. Judging by the sudden tenseness, it was clear Keith had heard her speak as well.

As if nothing had happened, like what she did was normal, and everything was perfectly _fine_.

Shiro couldn’t hold it in.

“…Why.” His throat hurt, his words felt strange on his tongue, and his voice cracked mightily to the point of rasping. But he had to speak. “Why did you do this?”

The beast looked down at him. It _was_ a beast to him, at that moment, a vile and cruel and insidious monstrosity, for what it did to him. His voice raised, almost coming out high-pitched from the effort it took to increase the volume of his words.

“Why…did you _do_ this to me!?”

Robbed him of his mind and body. Made him take in her essence though he begged her not to make him go through with it. Changed and twisted him into her little furry puppet, and then tortured him with a pale imitation of leadership and autonomy, while she was really the one in control. Brainwashed him to _worship_ her without question, to remember nothing of the truth, to the point where he saw _Keith_ as an _enemy_ to distrust and fear.

**_…I had to._ **

She leaned down, nose first, and the memories came. How she would bump him with her nose, to praise him. To honor him. To honor the Prince, and to show how _proud_ she was of him. Before, to have her attention and praise and permission would have made the Prince content for nothing else in his life.

**_It was meant to be. I am so sorry, Paladin._ **

Instead, Shiro recoiled from the gesture on instinct, burrowing even further into Keith while holding up his long-forgotten Galra arm. He could feel the urge to fight rising in him; if she tried anything further, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d protect his pack, even if right now, his pack was only Keith.

“ _Don’t touch us!_ ”

The Sena stopped at his strangled shout, her nose still hovering above him, at the arm that now glowed at her approach. Her eyes began to close.

 **_I knew, Paladin. I saw it._ ** Was that regret in her voice? Could Shiro trust it _was_ regret? **_I could feel, could see, the power of your struggle against a monster beyond the skies on my Perch, and when I found you, I knew you had to return to your kind. However, you were dying, and I did what I knew would save you._ **

Keith growled at her words.

 **_I knew these things would happen. Long before you arrived, I saw all that has since occurred._ ** Her tails gently swayed back and forth as she breathed in, letting out a deep, windy sigh. **_I saw that one day I would meet a Paladin that I would conceal. That one day, that Paladin would also be restored and taken from my hold._ **

Shiro could only stare at her in disbelief at her words.

**_I only did what was in my nature to do, Paladin, no matter the sorrow it would cause me._ **

“…No. You’re lying.” He shook. It was with anger, betrayal, from the _cold_ in the air where once he had only felt warmth in her presence. “You could have sent me back. You could have simply let me return to my team after you healed me. _None_ of this had to happen and you know it.”

He shut his eyes, feeling his eyes moisten again.

“You had the power to sense where they were, but you _kept_ me and…I—don’t _understand_ you…!”

“There’s nothing _to_ understand, Shiro.” Keith’s voice was ice. “You’re back, and we’re leaving this planet. If there’s nothing else, _you_ —” pointing to the Sena “—can leave us alone now. Or else.”

The creature opened her eyes again, narrowed looking back down on the two humans. Her stare was intent, almost paralyzing, and for a moment, Shiro tensed up. He needed his arm ready. The creature who called herself Goddess and Mother could kill them right then and there. She could squash them like miserable bugs with her size and strength, neither he nor Keith would have the time or means to stop her, and he knew that she knew this. He could hear Keith’s blade slide out of its holster along with his bayard shifting nearby, and his own Galra fist clenched, softly glowing in what he knew was a futile gesture…

…and then, to his bafflement, she floated upwards and away from them.

 **_Your death dream, Paladin._ ** Her voice echoed again, but now, it was only to him. Somehow, he could tell. Her voice, as ever, was calm, even, and perhaps even soothing. **_I swear I did not lie to you. It shall be fulfilled, as all things must be. But only you can find the last piece you’re looking for to understand the truth._ **

“…What-!?”

 **_…my little Paladin Prince…_ ** She turned fully away, becoming smaller as she floated away. **_I hope you may one day forgive me…I truly never meant you harm. Go forth now, and fulfill your true destiny._ **

Shiro looked away and shook his head. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

**_Goodbye…_ **

When he looked back, the pendulous thunderclouds had at last parted, turning purple as they migrated towards the horizon and the mist had dissipated. The strange, rainbow-reflecting sun was shining bright as a prism in the afternoon sky; the sky itself was a light green that receded to jonquil and pink as it got closer to the strange star’s position up above.

The Sena was gone, vanished without a trace. Instead, there was another, newer speck in the sky, one that was growing rapidly larger. It registered in his mind as it got closer that the speck was, in fact, the bird he had seen before, mere days and a whole lifetime ago.

Except the Goddess had spoken truthfully, as much as he wanted to hate her right now. It was not a bird at all, but a ship - a Blade ship, small and swift.

“Shiro…” He felt a soothing hand on his head. He didn’t have to look up to know Keith was smiling at him. “Its…it’s ok. Forget about her, ok? We’re going home now. _You’re_ going home.”

He felt a rumble in his throat, and his body relaxed. It was just like when Keith pet him before, as an animal. Time passed before the response came, but the response came with a tired smile as he weakly closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It was all a bit blurrier after that, almost dream-like, though he at least somewhat remembered what happened, afterwards. He let Keith carry him, he knew that much. Heard him talking, giving direction. Soon the ship descended, slowly and carefully, hovering just above the _mllurenis_. It gleamed black, like Keith’s Blade suit.

Keith. In a Blade suit. Shiro realized he had questions about that. It didn’t look like the one Keith had worn during the trials, for one. He also, somehow, looked older to Shiro’s weary eyes, slightly taller, and more physically built than Shiro recalled him being. Then there was that scar. It looked like something had seared his face with something hot, now that he could catch a much closer look at the mark, and that it had scabbed over without treatment. And – Shiro realized with slow, tired horror – he’d not been there to save him from whatever might have caused it.

How long had he been _gone_? What had _happened_ to Keith? _Why?_

He would have asked then and there, almost did. Then he felt Keith’s heartbeat against his ear as Keith re-adjusted his hold, and _ah_. He relaxed in Keith’s embrace as he let the gentle pounding regulate his own breathing. What was his question again? It must not have been too important; he could recall it later when he was less tired.

Keith easily carried him up the ramp (he was much stronger than before, to be able to carry him as he was. Shiro was so _proud_ , but also worried, because his shoulder was still injured and that was _his_ fault) and into the small hold of the ship. Another, larger Blade was waiting for Shiro, and he let out a rumble of protest as Keith gently laid him down on a strangely softened part of the metal floor. It left him cold and shivering without the other’s touch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” Keith’s mask went back up as he looked over at the larger Blade. “I got it, Kar, just give me a few ticks.”

The other Blade nodded, bringing out their hands, and with it _spreading darkness_. A square blackness suddenly started to descend on him; Shiro, weakened he might have been, couldn’t help but stiffen, his arm glowing in response. Blackness. Blackness like—

The square covered him up to his chest with a heavy cotton sensation. He found his arm cooling off involuntarily, and his head craning up to stare at the Blade, then at the offending _thing_ in question. That wasn’t death. It was the opposite of death. It felt warm, like his fur had been.

Still, he blankly glared at the square, unsure of its purpose and reason for warming him up. Would it bite him? Was it waiting to strike? Or—

“Back. We can take off now. We’re done here.”

He heard Keith snort at his distrust as his boots clapped against the ramp followed by the floor, and soon enough his hand quietly propped behind Shiro’s head, like a pillow would have, at least before a softer ground came behind his head. It smelled like cotton and lavender, and—

Oh.

_Oh._

Blanket. He had been covered with a blanket; beneath him was another blanket to buffer him against the metal floor. ( _The square is not an enemy?_ ) Under his head was a real pillow, not simply ground. He leaned back into that pillow with a deep sigh, as the top blanket was wrapped around him by Keith, like a cocoon. Or a burrito, he later would muse.

“Stabilizing gravity controls. Engaging liftoff procedures.” The other Blade’s voice came from the cockpit beyond as Shiro felt the weight of gravity start to press onto his chest. “Will you be all right back there, comrade? Your shoulder—”

“Yeah.” Keith’s mask fell away, showing his face once more. “Definitely, I got some gel left. Just take us away from here, Kar.”

His hand went to Shiro’s head, and it began to pet through his hair, back and forth once more. His fingers quietly rubbed his scalp, and Shiro felt himself melt against the pressure, his eyes slowly closing. Before his eyes closed fully, though, he saw Keith’s head descend downwards, closer to his own.

Forehead touched forehead as g-forces overtook the ship, pressing them together. Keith spoke low and quiet, the words reassuring and soothing. The words were nearly overwhelmed by the sounds of the ship howling through the atmosphere, but they still got through.

He was here, he could hear Keith murmur. He was alive. He was himself. He was safe and in control. He was here. He was alive. He was himself. He was safe and in control. The same words, over and over.

Coming from Keith, Shiro could almost believe it as he felt himself doze off again.

 

* * *

 

The next thing he could really remember through the blur was cool water in his throat, smooth ungloved hands brushing across his chest and neck, and lastly the sensation of being lifted up, faint voices echoing in the distance. They sounded like the Paladins, like Coran was accompanying them as well, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. Nor could he understand what they were saying as the distant noises became silent with time and distance.

Keith, he realized, was carrying him again; this time, instead of the brightness of the alien sun or the darkness of the jumpship, he found himself looking at the ceiling of a dark gray hallway. Bright purple lights dotted the sides, both above and below him. It was familiar.

The Castle of Lions? No. Purple, like the Galra. A larger Blade ship? When had they gotten there? Why weren’t they at the Castle? Did it matter? It probably didn’t, not right at that moment.

He was still wrapped in the blanket from the Blade ship, still tired, still naked, still dirty and still caked with many kinds of now-dried muck. However, he was no longer cold. Not with Keith near. Clothes and cleanliness could come later.

A whooshing sound echoed into one of his ears, and then, Keith turned a corner. The smell of metal and sterility filled his nostrils, and the hum of lights filled his ears.

He craned his neck to the side, confused. It was a bedroom, one of many on this ship, no doubt. It made sense to bring him to one if he was to rest and recover, of course. But why _this_ room?

“You ok?”

Ah. Keith had stopped walking and was asking him a question. Shiro blinked, fighting against the exhaustion embedded in his soul ( _you slept. Yet you are tired. Ridiculous._ ) to look over at him.

“Where is this?”

“It’s…a long story.” Keith’s eyebrows crimped downwards with concern. “Call it a temporary situation.”

“Temporary?”

“…The Castle’s…it’s complicated. But for now, this is your room.”

A pause as Keith trailed off. Shiro turned his head back and stared. Despite it being a different ship, and it clearly not being his room, it looked like it could be his room. Bare and minimal, with everything neatly in place. There were small indications – a faint dent in the pillow, bed sheets wrinkled, faint fingerprints on the light panels, the bathroom door just ajar – that someone had lived here recently. Someone shaped a great deal like Shiro.

He shouldn’t have had reason to doubt.

“Are you sure?”

Yet he did; he couldn’t feel like it was anything but the room of a stranger. He couldn’t smell himself. He couldn’t _feel_ himself coming here and living in this room. No, _his_ room was the cool and vast forest, with the soft dirt below and a canopy made of leaves and branches above, the countless distant stars barely penetrating through to interrupt sleep. The warmth of the pack surrounding him was his comfort, and then there was his Mother, his dear, perfect—

_No._

He felt himself start to shake. He’d almost been lost again, so strong those instincts had suddenly been. Almost back under the Sena’s spell, almost tempted by that false paradise he’d been trapped in.

 _She’s not—_ I’m _not—_

“Shiro. Hey there.”

Then his back felt futuristic mattress material beneath it, and he was back on the Blade ship, Keith sitting on the edge of the bed. One of his hands were firmly clasped into Shiro’s Galra hand, while the other gently rubbed his shoulder. Keith’s own shoulder, he noticed, was healed, with nary a scar from where he’d been attacked. It didn’t make him feel much better, not with the memory of those primal sensations clawing at his brain.

“Deep breaths. You’re here with me, and you’re safe. You’re in control. In and out, ok?”

Shiro sighed, doing his best to follow Keith’s instructions. In, out. In, out. It felt futile. His heart was still beating fast, and he could still feel the desire to be back with the Sena, the Goddess, that _thing_. The bond he had with it had been completely fake, and yet even now it felt too real for him. He could also still feel the hollowness, the question inside of him that had not been answered, the missing piece he lost when he first came to as a dying man.

It made him wonder if he was really whole and in control this time. If he was, indeed, home. Then he felt Keith’s hand brush against his forehead, and he knew. This was home. This was real. _Keith_ was real, as real as anything could be, and he had brought Shiro back. His own hand brushed against the scar on Keith’s cheek, a question that needed an answer.

But, that could come later. For now, he needed to focus on Keith. He could hold onto that and believe in Keith; maybe that would make everything else real along with that, and eventually, everything would make sense. So that was what he would do.

“You need to rest, Shiro. Everyone knows to leave you for now.” The hands began to withdraw. “I—”

“Stay with me.”

The withdrawal stopped.

“Stay with me.” Shiro repeated himself, his tone more forceful despite the rawness and cracking in his voice. “Please, Keith. Stay with me, _lay_ with me. I don’t…”

How could he explain how he felt? How he didn’t want to go back to being the feral Prince? How he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts or the emptiness, or feel the pull of the memories he possessed of the Goddess? How despite that, he needed _some_ one with him, to be with him like when he had been the Prince? No—that he needed _Keith_ with him, as Keith was the one person he could trust right then and there, being the one person who knew what had happened to him as the Prince?

There was a pause, before Keith slowly leaned back in, nodding.

“I’m here.” He climbed onto the bed, quietly snuggling into Shiro as he had done the Prince, just the night before. His touch sparked on Shiro’s neck and jaw. “And I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

Shiro keened despite himself, closing his eyes at the touch as it descended from his filthy face, trailed down his human arm, and finally rested on his hand. His own hand trailed the younger’s face once more. He wanted to believe that Keith would be there, because he wanted to wake up to Keith being with him. He believed in Keith, cared for Keith, and trusted him. Just as Keith did the same—

_No._

He remembered the night before and realized. It wasn’t _just_ trust that made Keith risk being mauled by him. Mere compassion didn’t spurn Keith to nearly be crushed by a giant monster. Simply believing in Shiro didn’t motivate Keith to come find him, when Shiro himself didn’t even know he needed to be found. Those were things Shiro also felt towards Keith, of course, but…it was more than that.

It was a truth that was giant, bright, overwhelming and terrifying to behold. For the Prince, it had been a creeping horror to realize those seemingly inexplicable feelings upon seeing the Black Beast cuddling with him. For Shiro, it was a beautiful blessing as he experienced his own emotions in full understanding, unimpeded by the Sena’s brainwashing for the first time in ages.

_Love._

“Shiro…” Keith must have realized what Shiro was thinking, for as he drifted off, he could see the gentle smile forming on the younger man’s face. “It’s good to have you back again.”

Those words stayed with him as he finally fell to slumber. It cushioned him as he slept, and his dreams were blissfully void and vacant save for Keith’s words.

_It’s good to have you back again._

He didn’t respond. With Keith, Shiro knew he didn’t need to.

_It’s good to be back again._

 

* * *

 

Shiro didn’t know how long he’d slept that first time being a human in what felt like an eternity, and he didn’t know what time it was when he finally woke up. Shiro also didn’t care to know.

Having fallen asleep himself, Keith was still lying next to him, holding his hand. The contented smile never left his face.


	9. Þóht

To say it had been a difficult month back would have been an understatement.

Much had changed in the universe beyond, and for a good part of his recovery so far, Shiro had not been even remotely ready to handle everything. He’d barely been ready to handle having opposable thumbs for the first few days, much less the business of the entire universe being foisted back onto his shoulders.

He learned, eventually. He had to, especially with the amount of time he’d been gone. Standardized time had little meaning to such a beast like the Prince, nor to any other creature on the world he had been on; seasons were used for remembering what could be hunted and little else. For his family, however, it had been over three decapheebs – roughly three and a half years – since the battle with Zarkon, and with where he had been, it could have been even longer. Everyone was older, and many things were different. So different that in some ways, Shiro still wondered if he would wake up and realize that everything after gaining the black bayard from Zarkon had all been a dream.

The most important thing? Zarkon was dead. _Gone_. Haggar had managed to keep him alive after their battle, but he never fully recovered from Shiro’s blow, and eventually, he was killed. It was amazing to learn that Shiro’d had a hand in ending Zarkon’s menace, but also overwhelming - Shiro had to sit, needed to ask Keith to repeat what he’d just said multiple times, just to be sure he was hearing it right. He had even burst into tears when he heard it. Yet the hunt wasn’t over. It never was. Haggar (Zarkon’s wife. _His wife._ ) was still around. as was _Sendak_ (if Shiro could be alive, then Sendak could be alive; _a worthy, terrifying opponent_ , something in the depths of his mind unhelpfully supplied).

Nor was Sendak the only threat. Zarkon and Haggar had a _son_ who became the Emperor after Zarkon’s death. At least, he _had_ been the Emperor. After betraying them everyone who had trusted him, he, too, was gone - as was the Castle of Lions.

( _Blood and hate repaid with more blood blood and hate,_ he felt something in him think as he was told all the Galra would have died from Lotor’s plan to ‘save’ everyone _. For what? Such a shame he was no better than the other. It is a waste of a worthy opponent.)_

At least Voltron itself wasn’t sacrificed during his absence. Allura was now a Paladin; Keith had wavered back and forth between the Black Lion and the Blade of Marmora, before finally returning to the Black Lion. Pidge, meanwhile, had learned how to integrate the cloaking technology from Green into Voltron itself, as well as to smaller vessels such as Keith’s Blade suit. ( _No wonder he had been invisible during the chase._ ) Lance had improved so much, and could summon a sword, now; Hunk also seemed much more confident than Shiro remembered him to be. It made his eyes mist up to see his Paladins growing up so. He just hated that he was partly at fault for their struggles once more, no matter the good that came out of it.

Even after that, though, there was yet more, and Shiro was shocked his head hadn’t exploded after a point. After all, Pidge had found Matt _and_ Sam; Shiro’s heart sank when he realized hadn’t even gotten to see them, much less show them he was all right. Keith had also found a family member - Krolia, his mother. She had passed by him in the halls, once, and he could sense that she was keeping a respectful distance while he recovered himself, slowly but surely. Still, she gave him a smile when he looked at her.

Keith looked so much like her, he realized with wonder. He could see where the smile he admired so much came from.

Then there was the matter of ‘the other guy’. ‘The other guy’ wasn’t there, but it had slipped that he existed and had been a Paladin, had even piloted the Black Lion for a decent amount of time while the Prince roamed remote forests. Once Shiro caught on about ‘the other guy’, he had to ask, and his Paladins reluctantly answered his queries. He almost wished he hadn’t asked when he finally learned who ‘the other guy’ was: he – Shiro – had an _evil clone_ impersonating him for most of the time he’d been missing. An evil, mean clone who Haggar used to try and destroy the team from within. He nearly succeeded, nearly broke the team and their spirits, and almost destroyed everything that had been worked for in the process. The one who had scarred Keith.

A _real_ beast, one that had worn his face.

(“Not so evil or mean, though, since Keith lopped off his Galra arm,” Pidge had insisted before strapping him down to poke at his arm for the same bugs and viruses the clone had held, after he practically growled at the revelation. The battle with Zarkon, it turned out, had also fried the memory transmitter the military was using to gather memories for what had been called Operation Kuron. “Actually, he’s in a vegetative state since his arm was apparently where most of his life force was or something. He’s down in the medical bay here - once we’ve figured out if we can wake him up or not, maybe you can meet him?”

Shiro didn’t want to meet him. Not yet. Not until the compulsion to tear his throat out was gone. Not until the young Altean girl Keith had rescued from Lotor stopped hiding from Shiro, her memories of violence inflicted by a monster with his form all too vivid in recollection.

Attacks on the pack couldn’t be so easily forgiven.)

Oh – and Slav was right about parallel realities, as the Lions could pass through into them due to the unique properties of their construction. He was Swedish in the one they ended up in, and Slav was probably his boyfriend. That last one Shiro absolutely refused to believe. In fact, he nearly bit Lance when the other teased him about it. Actually lunged at him and tried to sink his teeth into the other’s arm; thankfully Lance had the presence of mind to get out of the way and let Shiro run into the wall instead.

That was…a problem. No, not just a problem - it was a leftover from when he had been something more monstrous. It wasn’t the only remnant of regression from his unintended sabbatical, either, and Shiro knew it. Everyone knew that he had changed again; outer space had once more altered him into something unexpected, something just a little less human than he was before. Just as Takashi Shirogane’s memories, thoughts, and bonds had vaguely plagued the Prince, now the Prince quietly left his feral mark on the human he turned back into.

Well, not always quietly. He still growled, though his vocal cords were hardly booming enough to create the same effect as before. He still could subsist on raw meat without much effort, which grossed out his teammates; he also found himself staring at the mice too long whenever he spotted any of them, and one time even licked his lips as he thought of a crunchy mouthful of Plachu. The mice thankfully let their displeasure be known to Allura before he could act on the thought, and she got him on the carpet but good about it. The mice avoided him from then on out.

There was more, of course. He almost marked up everyone’s bedroom door, and the Lions, with his urine in the first few quintants back. He found himself at constant odds with the strange black wolf with no smell that kept teleporting around Keith – a wolf taken from a compressed space-time field that was now his pet. Kosmo was his name, and he was so similar to the Prince, yet so very unlike him. (Eventually, though, Kosmo yielded – _just as it should to a Prince_ , a rumble echoed in his mind.) He also had yet to cut his hair, which now curled like a real lion’s mane down to his hips, or to trim the bushy beard that had come with his two-year, fur-filled sleep. Heck, in the beginning he walked around entirely without clothing, so used to it he now was, and stalked the halls at night for threats like he would have for the Sena.

The last one was an easy fix, at least. Now, he just went nude in his bedroom and gave fair warning before he thought to do it anywhere else on the ship. The hair and beard were an easy fix, too; he just hadn’t felt like cutting it off just yet, instead putting it up in a bun when he needed it out of his face. It was obvious to everyone that he hadn’t entirely recovered whatever self-consciousness he possessed as a human, either, or the squeamishness he had felt about the many battle scars and injuries inflicted by the Galra’s machinations. Even when the other Paladins told him they would have to disconnect his right arm entirely in order to completely purge the potential Galra influence. Even after he woke up trying to move that arm, only to realize his limping paw was _gone_ , but he could still feel himself try and _move it_.

He’d not been as upset as everyone thought he would be, even when he lost the arm. Indeed, looking down at himself in the mirror at that moment, he found himself grasping futilely for the reason he had felt so scared of showing his scars off to his comrades beforehand.

 _These marks hold no shame, only triumph._ The Prince would have decided this with a purr-like rumble, head held high and no second-guessing. Somewhere in the recesses of his being, he could somehow still find himself agreeing with his more primitive mindset.  _These are not the scars of a broken soldier, or the body of a toy that failed to serve those cruel purple beasts. No, they are the trophies of a warrior that they failed to destroy, and the form of a proud victor over tribulation._

He brought his remaining hand to his side, right where the old scar from Haggar’s attack pressed against his hip, before slowly scratching his stomach. A thick line of true black fur still covered him, from above his navel to his groin – and his groin was all matted fur as well – a reminder of where the transformation had started. His fingernails on his left hand curled slightly like claws, as did his toes. He could feel his coccyx move from inside his body; though he now had no obvious tail, he still took care when sitting as there were sensitive nerves to keep in mind.

He still dreamed of the Sena, of her world, of running, of killing, of his monstrous rebirth from being her suckling. It was all still vivid, but hardly as tempting or desperate like before; he could feel her influence on him slowly and easily peeling away in layers. In its place, though, there was…still something missing. He couldn’t figure out what it was even after all that time. Just that a part of him felt…empty. Hollow.

 _Not sickness._ Again, the Prince’s sentiments echoed, when he thought it might have been that affliction, the one which had been a part of his life long before Kerberos or dreams of space. _You are not sick now. You are strong. A child of the Goddess knows nothing of petty illness._

 _Silence. I’m not hers._ Shiro closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, trying to push back the thought. _I won’t be._

Even so, he could feel a strength inside of himself that was – and was not – his. Even Keith had been surprised with his updated pod diagnostics. His muscles showed signs of regeneration and stability. No sign of the genetic problem that had plagued him – it was as asleep as he had been inside the Prince. He hated that it was likely the Sena that had helped him with that, alongside whatever the Galra had done. He didn’t want to be in her debt.

 _There will always be me in you, like you were in me._ He could imagine the snorting at his reticence. _Never be ashamed, even in freedom. It is a gift; it is yours._

It was easier said than done to accept that, he thought glumly as he sighed. He clearly lacked something inside of him, still, in any case. Even knowing what had happened, even turning back, even with his disorder somehow suppressed, it felt like something in him was missing. It wasn’t the arm, he knew that. He would get another one, eventually. But then what _was_ it?

He wasn’t sure. Not yet.

 

* * *

 

They had always said among the beasts that the Sena could see the future. The Prince had believed it, and Shiro realized – much as he despised giving the creature _any_ benefit of the doubt - that it might have been true once he sat and thought about everything. Once he went over the evidence with a much more objective mind. The question was why.

When Shiro had been first brought on board, Keith had brought a sample of the liquid that Shiro had ingested – and then excreted – back with him. Everyone was careful not to taste it, or to let Shiro smell it lest he try to drink it again. Not that Shiro really wanted to anymore, as among other things it _was_ his throw-up, but they had been cautious for good reason.

The Sena’s story about the Glow and its effects had not been mere legend, after all. After Shiro was retrieved, Coran and Pidge had both started looking into the history of the planet, to the point of hacking a classified partition of data within both the Castle of Lions’ surviving computers, as well as various Galra facilities.

“I finally found a name! Asena IV. It was a joint Altean-Galra research station before the war. Sanctioned by Honerva for her research on the rift’s quintessence.” Earlier, the chamberlain’s face filled the computer screen, his finger around his mustache. He and Allura were in a meeting on the bridge with a rebel cell, so his voice was low and quiet. “Apparently, King Alfor lost contact with them a year before the final battle against Zarkon and the destruction of Altea. I’ve been unable to verify exactly what he might have known, but, well…I suppose with our present knowledge we can make an educated guess at what happened.”

“Right – almost everything died and whatever biological matter survived, mutated. Lines up with what I’ve got.” Pidge saluted. “Thanks for the info, and sorry for interrupting.”

“Any time, Number Five!” Coran winked. “Any time.”

With that, Coran’s face blinked out, replaced with Pidge’s results of the liquid.

“Well, it’s definitely a form of liquid quintessence.” Keith stared at the results Pidge brought up. “It’s been modified somehow. Not like what the Druids do, though.”

“Well yeah, probably through the natural processes of that Sena thing, if it was lactating to give it to him. Sort of. If it was a quintessence mutant then ‘natural’ is relative.”

“Right…”

“But either way the compounds added to this that result from it…” A set of helix and molecular formations popped up on screen. “This stuff is super-addictive and super-transformative for multiple species and it can suppress the original form’s normal quintessence flow to supplant it with itself. It’s powerful and the effects are long-lasting even after it’s been rejected from the body.”

“So basically,” Keith’s brows furrowed. “It’s the quintessence version of magical liquid crack.”

“Preeetty much.” Pidge had looked at Shiro with not a small amount of awe.  “Seriously, the fact you didn’t succumb right away is a miracle. There’s no way any of us would have been able to resist this stuff, not even for a moment. It changes too much, too quickly!”

“Yeah, that’s why he was a spolf!” Everyone looked at Lance as he uttered the world. “What? Space werewolf! I mean, you know, you can’t call it a spere, and you can’t use the cockroach aspects because then you’d have a spo-“

“Woah, boy, calm down!” Hunk could probably see the rising irritation in Shiro’s expression. Right. He had to work on his temper as well, especially when it came to poor Lance, who was just trying to lighten the mood. “We get the idea, right, Shiro?”

“…Yeah.”

“Still, there is something that’s personally weirding me out about this whole thing.” Hunk’s hand went to his neck as his eyes dashed from left to right. “What are the odds that Shiro would get teleported right onto a planet that just happened to have a creature that could change Shiro in such a way that no one could find him during the whole time we were trying to battle the Galra Empire? Including the Galra?”

Shiro stiffened at this.

“ _That’s_ the weird part for you?”

“I’m serious! I can’t be the only one who can’t help but think this wasn’t just a fluke?” Hunk looked over at Shiro. “This planet clearly has some unique properties because of what happened with the outpost that had been here, right? And a creature that can naturally modify quintessence and control things like that, a creature that isn’t a Balmera or an Altean…that would be something someone would be after, wouldn’t it? How is it possible no one’s thought to look for this place before now?”

Hunk had a point. It was incredibly coincidental that he should have landed on such a planet, and that the Sena knew what he was, that the Sena had been able to protect him. In his primitive mind, the Sena had been a Goddess, capable of miracles that nearly nothing else living in her domain could do.

But she wasn’t a deity, he knew that now.

“Actually…” Keith frowned. “It’s not impossible. The energy is a little bit similar to the quantum abyss my mom and I were in…and where the camp was.”

Quantum abyss. Another thing he didn’t know about, yet. Just how much happened while he was gone? But…quantum. Physics. Time? Camp? The compressed space-time field, perhaps. He’d have to ask Keith about it later.

“Are…you sure?”

“Yeah, definitely. It’s similar in a few of these readings.”

Keith scratched the back of his neck as he explained. Shiro took a step forward, but stopped himself. Licking someone’s upper back to help with the itching wasn’t human behavior. Probably. Right?

“I saw creatures who could easily survive the chaotic conditions of the abyss – heck, Kosmo’s one of the creatures from that abyss, and he…is a lot like Shiro was.” Keith chewed his lip as he continued. “So it’s possible that a beast like that could learn how to control their quintessence to survive in that kind of environment. Even if this planet wasn’t inside a quantum abyss, _something_ happened to result in something similar to develop in that system, akin to a quantum abyss.”

Keith paused, at this.

“That makes sense, right?”

“Makes sense to me,” Pidge shrugged. “A quantum abyss planet, right? Just without the dense neutron stars messing with it outwardly.”

“But if the planet acts similar to the quantum abyss…maybe the Galra used a neutron bomb of some kind to cause that?” Hunk gulped. “That’s only a little terrifying to think about. Just a little. Oh god, whatever they used, I hope they don’t _still_ use that thing on planets.”

“…So then maybe the creature was advanced enough as a result that she could use her abilities to manipulate all of the quintessence on the planet.”

Shiro had no idea it had even come from his mouth until everyone turned to look at him. He himself blinked at his own revelation.

“I mean, she had control over a good part of it at least, from what I saw. She definitely controlled the forest and its creatures, that was her sanctuary. The pack, as well.” Shiro paused. He thought of the colors of the sky, the sun, the dust and the waters. Of himself. He sighed, feeling the longing still tugging at him. “Possibly the atmosphere on a level, too, especially if the planet looked completely barren beyond the planet’s geocorona when seen from space.”

Indeed, Asena IV’s picture hovered on the screen in front of everyone; it looked more like Jupiter than Earth, barren and uninviting. They all knew better now.

“The creature that changed me…she was an animal. Like any animal she’d have wanted to protect her territory however she could, especially if she was a survivor from 10,000 years ago.” He frowned. Was he trying to excuse her actions? No. He shook his head. He hoped that he wasn’t. “She remembered the disaster, I know that much. The disaster changed her into what she is. But she didn’t exactly impart a lot of succinct information to me about her power, or how it worked, or exactly what the disaster _was_. Maybe…her power was even capable of reaching out to bring me to her planet. She had mentioned that she’d sensed our battle with Zarkon.”

“So when the Black Lion was teleporting you—"

“She…somehow had the power to catch something like your body instead…I believe it.” Shiro turned towards Keith as he finished the thought out loud. “Aside from what we know about the planet’s biomes being concealed, there was also the weird radiation in the atmosphere. That was another sign of the chaotic quintessence – of a possible quantum abyss phenomenon.”

“Keith?”

“I could breathe the air on the planet, and I knew it wasn’t going to kill me,” Keith slowly nodded to Hunk. “But it made me feel weird when it wasn’t filtered through my suit. It didn’t hurt me, it just felt… _weird_. Like breathing laughing gas without the laughing.”

“Really?...that’s why you kept your mask on most of the time,” Shiro realized as he played back his memories of when he was the Prince, memories of the Black Beast on two legs. To the burning in his lungs when he changed back. “It hadn’t even occurred to me.”

“That’s because you were a spolf.”

Lance winced when Shiro looked at him, though there was no annoyance this time in his expression. Still, Shiro couldn’t help but frown. It was clear Lance was scared of him now, and really, after the biting incident, Shiro couldn’t blame him. Naturally, this had to be rectified. Lance had to know he held nothing against him, that it was all on him, and that Lance wouldn’t – shouldn’t – have needed to keep worrying.

A few nights later, after a routine planetary pit stop, Shiro dropped off an apology gift in front of Lance’s door, and he was certain Lance would be placated by it.

He’d killed it cleanly by snapping its neck with his mouth, after all.


	10. Eardlufu

****

**_I hope you may one day forgive me…_ **

Water splashed onto his face and all over his hair. Letting out a gasp, Shiro shook his mane left and right, sending droplets all over the mirror and wall of the bathroom. Breathe in, breathe out. He was still getting used to way the food goo settled in his stomach; Hunk wouldn’t let him subsist on just raw meat. He needed other nutrients now; he wasn’t a wild, carnivorous animal anymore.

 _…She was a wild animal_ , he mused as he walked out of his bathroom, fingers running through damp hair. In the end, maybe that was a key to her actions. She had evolved with the quintessence, become powerful and smart with age, but in the end, the Sena was simply a more evolved beast endowed with a great deal of power. She protected her territory and pack with all her skills. Like, perhaps, seeing the future.  Keith had mentioned later that the quantum abyss had allowed him to catch glimpses of the past and future, and if this world had a similar property, then such a thing wasn’t inconceivable. Then, she used the powers and gifts she was given to protect her home.

It also included neutralizing threats however she needed to. She’d taught him that much as the Prince. The strongest threats, like the _fllreni_ or _mllureni_ , she respected and kept everyone away from, buffered her home against them, unless she could take them on. The weak threats, she ignored or found other ways to ensure they didn’t become stronger. Shiro had been the latter, defenseless and dying, but his arrival, however it may have come about, signaled that the former might be coming to threaten her lands once more. There was no way she couldn’t have known of the Lions, having called him Paladin.

**_I only did what was in my nature to do…_ **

In the end, she compromised, and neutralized him by changing him. Controlling him, until the Paladin was taken away from her, just as she had promised would happen. Everything that the Sena had said to him about the Prince’s fate, about the future, had been on a level true after all. A creature of black finding Shiro, and how his end would be done. The fact that Shiro would be reunited with his friends and loved ones. The fact Shiro wept in Keith’s arms…

There was, right now, no way to really prove that the monster really was precognitive alongside her mutations, or whether she merely took advantage of a similar phenomenon as the quantum abyss. Once they had Shiro back, Voltron left the planet and didn’t look back. It wasn’t safe for them to stay long-term – the beasts there were dangerous, the atmospheric radiation was too unpredictable, and their presence would endanger such a unique place by calling attention to it. Perhaps when Haggar, and the threat of Zarkon’s poisonous legacy was defeated, they could return and better understand the planet and how it worked.

For Shiro, his own mind was settled on what there was to understand about Asena IV and the supposed Goddess that lived on it. Even after everything she had done to him – even after she had taken away control from him, replacing it with something of herself to suppress his true self - he found himself believing, at least in her possibly having precognition. Not in anything else, not like before; it would be too soon if he never saw the Sena again. What she did to him, she had done without his consent, and he had not even known himself anymore as a result. He was still angry about that. It still _hurt_.

Yet her having a power like that was the only thing that made _some_ reasonable sense. The creature knew he was a Paladin of Voltron, and it knew that, aside from her own interests in changing him, he _was_ in a reasonable amount of danger. Events during his time away had proven this – no doubt that if the Galra found him while the clone was so firmly in place on the Castle, they would have killed him or shuffled him someplace so far off-the-grid that Haggar herself wouldn’t know where to look. His friends would have been none the wiser until it was far too late. Indeed, it almost _had_ been too late.

Besides, he ruefully mused, quintessence could be manipulated to do to what could be otherwise considered impossible, even to keep a dead man alive indefinitely. What, then, was impossible about a mutated alien beast developing the ability to see the future with clarity via that energy as well?

That, then, settled that for Shiro. There was one answer left for him to seek out. It was the one thing in the Sena’s prophecy that he had not yet figured out, after all this time: the _true_ identity of the Black Beast.

**_The Black Beast seeks you out. It shall not rest until it has you in its grasp. A black creature shall be your end, Prince._ **

The Black Beast. Was Keith really the Black Beast, as he’d thought? Or – now that he was thinking it over more soundly and with the bonus of hindsight, patience, and control over his own mind – was it that, when the Sena had first spoken its prophecy, he had misinterpreted it, in his more simple, animalistic mind?

No man could ever defeat the monster, so a woman did it. Neither man nor beast can save the world, so the hero is a robot. Death, and so many other words, could be interpreted in a prophecy in different ways.

**_It shall be fulfilled, as all things must be. But only you can find the last piece you’re looking for to understand the truth._ **

_The last piece._

So, the prophecy was not entirely fulfilled before he had left Asena IV. Keith _had_ technically ended the Prince with his quest. He’d worn the suit of a Blade (namely because Pidge added a cloaking capacity to it – she only just finished the modifications on Keith’s Paladin armor since he came back), hence Keith had worn black. So, it made sense that the prophecy would be fulfilled that way, with Keith as the black creature. Yet, as Shiro tried to recall his dreams, he realized the Black Beast he confronted in the death dream was _not_ Keith. It couldn’t have been, no matter what the Prince thought. Keith had only been in the Prince’s final dreams, and that had only been as time went by – from being around Keith on that quest.

Every other time, no matter what else had been happening in the dreams, it had been on four legs, not two, and had been seemingly comparable in size to—

_Wait._

His eyes widened as he found himself staring at the wall of his bedroom, right next to the door. He realized at that moment that he never got an answer as to how Keith _had_ known to come to Asena IV to begin with. Granted, he never thought to ask, but now that he thought about it, no one had ever brought up the story of the time Keith randomly stumbled, without explanation, onto the planet with the cadre of skyscraper-sized mutant survivors of a planetary holocaust. The planet where Keith found out that Shiro was being concealed with the addictive, warped magic of what could only be described as metamorphotic breast milk.

It couldn’t have been chance; neither Keith nor Shiro (especially not Shiro) wasn’t that lucky. So just _what_ had compelled him and the others to find Shiro _there_ , of all places, when otherwise there was no way to—

His thoughts were then interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Shiro?” It was Keith’s voice that followed from the hallway. “You still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“You dressed?”

Shiro couldn’t help but snort.

“Nope.”

The door slid open, and the two faced one another once more. Keith didn’t care about Shiro’s lack of clothing, or arm, or numerous scars; he’d seen Shiro transform from whatever he had been, violently, back into himself. Seen him swimming in his own projectile alien vomit, and then carted him around while getting it all over him. Shiro simply wearing nothing and lacking his right arm was hardly a bother in comparison.

“I’m here.” Keith offered his hand as the door slid behind him. “If you still want to do it.”

Shiro looked at the hand, then at Keith, then back at the hand. Without a second thought he grabbed Keith and roughly pulled him towards the bed.

“I _do_.”

He almost tossed Keith one-handed onto the mattress, before jumping on himself. He let Keith get situated beneath the blankets, before he himself got under and pressed against Keith. The heat from the other’s body instantly calmed him, and he found himself burying his nose into Keith’s shoulder, inhaling and chuffing deeply as Keith’s free hand went towards his hair.

Sand, and fir, and the rest of Keith’s natural odor. The scent was weak, now. Almost non-existent to his too-human nostrils. Yet he needed this. Needed something familiar to just hold and bring into himself, to feel warm like he did before. Like when he buried himself into Mother while he slept – while Keith had buried himself into his underbelly that night - wondering why he could have no family to call his and his alone.

Only here, as a puny human, he was cold, and alone, every night. That instinctual ache of loneliness still lingered even with Shiro surrounded by those he cared for, by his true family. That yearning for primal comfort remained. It lessened with time, but it was still strong enough that everyone knew that it wouldn’t disappear any time soon.

Only one person on the ship really understood that instinct well enough to ground Shiro. Although everyone came in at various points on various evenings to help take the edge off, it was well understood that every night _he_ would come. He did, and then they lay close, holding each other, just as they did now.

“I’m here.” Keith’s voice was quiet, as usual during this ritual. “…You’re coming to faster.”

“Mm.” Shiro sighed. “If you say so.”

“You are. And you didn’t lick my face this time, either.”

“Guess I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Never.” Fingers began to pet his scalp, and Shiro can’t help but rumble a little in his throat at the soft touch. “I really mean it, though. You’re getting better. Your eyes dilate differently when you’re not entirely yourself, and it’s definitely not as long or noticeable as before.”

“…but that’s…”

Shiro closed his eyes at those words of encouragement. He could hear the door slide open, and the padding of wolf paws on the floor. He slowly lifted and turned his head, eyes narrowing with stern coolness as he and Kosmo met eyes. He knew what the animal wanted with Keith, but he would have none of it.

 _My Keith tonight._ A rumble softly rippled through his chest. _Mine._

After a moment, the tennaearless wolf’s head went down, and disappeared in a puff of light. Only to reappear curled up at the foot of the bed, just beyond Shiro and Keith’s feet, staring at the former through bright eyes the entire time. A compromise, then. He supposed he could accept that.

With a sigh, Shiro turned his head back into the crook of Keith’s neck, feeling the chuckle in Keith’s throat at the sight.

“Maybe tomorrow night, Kosmo.” Keith’s hands went back onto Shiro. “Like I said, I mean it. You are going back to being like yourself.”

“…No.”

Keith’s hands stopped moving. For a moment, Shiro felt shame once more, and even that voice sleeping deep inside him was quiet.

“I’m not going to be entirely myself, Keith.” Shiro’s hand found itself on Keith’s face, on his scar. In a way, this was his fault.  In a way, his changes, his absence, caused this. “I haven’t been myself for a long time. I don’t I ever will be back to myself, not ever again. You know that.”

Shame that he was not what Keith deserved, that his changes kept separating them from one another. Shame for so many other regrets, for time lost, for moments he would never experience with Keith. For his weakness leading to years of suffering for so many people, on so many levels.

Ticks passed, before the petting resumed with a light scoff.

“I know. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I know you’re not the Shiro I knew from the Garrison. Or even the Shiro who led us into battle against Zarkon.” He could almost feel the wry smirk playing on Keith’s face. “But it doesn’t matter to me, or anyone else. Never did, never will. You’re still Shiro, whether or not you’re a spolf.”

Shiro snorted, his eyes shutting tighter. Ok, Keith got him to chortle with that stupid spolf word. A tiny bit. _Maybe_.

“And I’ll do this for you, for as long as it takes. Until we get back to Earth, and forever beyond that.”

The petting was still soothing for Shiro, as it had been when he was much bigger and furrier and less inhibited. While it still worked, he would take the comfort. Maybe now, it would always work.

Soon enough, his eyes were closed, his body melted into Keith’s, and he sunk into the deepest sleep he could recall having in years. He didn’t even hear the door to his room open, or feel the other bodies carefully depositing themselves around him as he slumbered, nor did he wake up in the middle of the night to wonder why the room suddenly smelled like Lance’s soap.

They still reached him, nevertheless, as he slumbered. For in his dream he at last stood up to the final thing which plagued him this whole time. He was an animal, a beast created from the Sena to be a Prince, raised to be above and alone in his post. Now, though, his pack – no, the Paladins, his family – were behind him once more, all human, everyone with him all the way, as he confronted that final fear.  Closest to him was Keith, who held his head and gently caressed his fur. His nose nuzzled the Prince’s snout, and whispered.

_Patience…yields focus._

And once more, like nearly every death dream he had before, the Prince saw the _true_ Black Beast materialize in front of them all. And this time, he waited and watched as his perception of it began to morph with time.

**_The Black Beast seeks you out._ **

_Oh._ It stood, first on two legs as Keith had, then on four as usual, as its yellow eyes closed in on him. That was when it hit him, and tears stung his cheeks once more as the identity of his surreal pursuer finally became clear.

**_It shall not rest until it has you in its grasp._ **

_Of course._

This whole time, this _whole time_ …

Keith had known where to find him, even across the universe, because of _him._

_I’m here._

This time, he didn’t fight. He didn’t run away, or cower, or try to deny what was in front of him. He instead allowed it to come up to him, to do with him as it may, eyes open wide.

_I’m ready._

In response to his acceptance, the Black Lion _roared_ , and Shiro felt the final weight of his forced sojourn lift off his shoulders lift as he ran forth, Keith letting him go with a happy cry. The jungle melted away into astral stars of unknown galaxies, and his feral astral body became more and more human until, at last, a fully human form phased into the bright burning string of light now laid out for him. He outstretched his limping paw; it shifted into his Galra arm, which then dissipated into a new arm of bright light. This new hand cupped the light like a ball, before smashing it with a clenched fist.

The light disappeared, spreading in a glow from his hand to his arm to his chest; it engulfed the rest of his body mere ticks later. The piece of himself that Shiro hadn’t even realized was missing merged into his being. He gasped as it all washed over him; the deepness of the bond he now felt with the Black Lion made it feel like he’d never left, and memories and feelings he didn’t even know he’d been missing returned to him and sparked within his mind.

The part of him that had been so certain it was dead, when it was ripped away from him during that final battle, the part that had watched over Voltron as best as it could within the Black Lion, embraced him and accepted him back as the rest of him. In a delighted instant of delirium, he let himself be carried away into his own presence as well, drifting into the infinite sunrise of his Lion’s eyes as he wept tears of joy. There it was. _There it was._

If anyone had woken up at that moment, they would have seen Shiro’s eyes open, flashing a brilliant white, then gold, illuminating the whole room with star-like sparkles as he held Keith, held everyone, in his arm.

At long last, the prophecy was well and truly fulfilled. At long last, the Prince of the Goddess slept.

At long last, the Black Paladin, complete and at peace, was truly was home.

 

**E N D**


End file.
